The Sellsword
by lareepqg
Summary: Jane isn't one for fancy dresses or shoes that pinch, but when she's forced to attend a ball under threat of murder, she cannot say no. Modern AU. Co-written by Kyra and LareePQG. Rated M for things. Day 2 of Janther Week: Sellsword.
1. Chapter 1

_Kyra's A/N : Welcome to Laree and Kyra's multiple-chapter collaboration for Janther Week, The Sellsword. We had probably an inappropriate amount of fun writing this and hope you will enjoy reading it just as thoroughly._

 _This story is a modern AU, which will have sexual content in a later chapter. There will be several T-rated chapters in between here and there that will contain nothing more offensive than a smattering of swears - so if you don't like lemons in your cup of tea, you can skip that chapter (it will be marked appropriately) and not lose too much of the plot.  
_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

"Pepper!" Jane was practically shouting into her phone, which was not in itself unusual. It was, however, _very_ unusual for her to take this tone with her best friend, of all people.

This situation was spinning entirely out of control, though, and despite the fact that Jane relied heavily on Pepper to help her navigate these kinds of matters, in this particular instance Pepper was not being helpful at all.

At _all._

Pepper, in fact, was more or less being the exact opposite of helpful. Pepper, to add insult to injury, was -

"Stop _laughing_ at me! This is not even _remotely_ funny! Do you hear me?! This is… this is a disaster! I need you _here!_ "

Pepper's voice, still bubbling with mirth, floated to her out of the phone, sounding so tantalizingly, _torturously_ close that Jane could almost believe she was half a room, instead of half a _world_ , away.

"Jane, I feel the need to point out once again that _you_ are the one who sent me to London. You have no one to blame but yourself, and -" Pepper broke off to stifle another giggle - "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Petal, but it _is_ kind of… just a little bit…" and then she was just laughing again; bright, unbridled peals of it, and…

Jane hung her head in defeat, feeling perilously close to tears.

"Jane," Pepper continued once she'd reasserted some semblance of control, "I _know_ you don't love these sorts of events. But you will be fine, I promise. It will be _easy._ Look - I'll help. I'll call and get you an appointment at my salon. You won't even have to do your own hair or makeup. Just show up, let them do their thing, and then you can get straight into your dress and go."

Jane groaned. "I had forgotten about the _dress._ "

"Well the _dress_ is a no-brainer," Pepper said confidently. "What is there to think about? You're wearing the dragon-scale gown, of _course -_ this isn't up for debate."

"I can't go. I _can't._ " Jane's last word was more of a whisper than a whine.

"Why not?" her friend demanded.

" _He'll_ be there."

Jane thought she heard Pepper's breath catch. For a moment the other woman said nothing - and it took a _lot_ to render Pepper speechless.

Pepper _always_ had a rejoinder; that was exactly why she was so naturally _good_ at this sort of thing. Being the face of the company at just this kind of event. Pepper could socialize and charm and network in a way that Jane, for all her business acumen, just… couldn't.

For God's sake, a ball? A BALL? What had she been _thinking,_ sending Pepper out of country _now?_

"I can't go." Jane repeated. "He'll be there with _her._ Or worse, someone else - because he didn't care about that skag any more than he cared about me - and he's moved on three, maybe four times over."

"I don't care _who_ he shows up with, she will not be one tenth as intelligent, successful, or beautiful as you. It was _his loss_ , Petal, do you hear me? HIS."

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that he will have someone, and I will be _alone._ "

"Who exactly said you had to be alone? Jane, you have options. Multiple options. J-"

"Options? _Options?_ " Jane laughed - noting, with dull horror, that the sound was just ever so slightly tinged with hysteria. "What, my dear, _options_ are you referring to?"

"Well let's talk about the fact that most of your friends _are_ men, Jane. I'm sure any one of them would be happy to accompany you. This event, from what I hear, is going to be _over_ the top. _The_ place to seen this season. I honestly wish it _was_ me going… but no, you would send me to jolly old England, then whine about it!"

"I am not whining. I have some _very_ valid concerns. REAL CONCERNS, Pepper." Jane huffed. "You and your _options._ Just who do you suggest I take?"

"Well I can see how you're going to be." Jane could practically _hear_ Pepper rolling her eyes. "So how about I just say a name and you tell me why it _won't_ work. Even though any one of them actually _would_."

"I will not."

"Okay then, what about Jethro?"

It _irked_ her that her friend knew her so completely. Jane paused, pretending to give Pepper's suggestion serious consideration. "Well, he _is_ pretty to look at, and that man can _dance_. But he hates these sorts of things and will end up bailing halfway through - and who could blame him?"

"Well… maybe," Pepper allowed reluctantly. "What the hell is the _point_ of being such a good dancer if you're not going to put it to use? But all right, th-"

"It's a _ball,_ Pepper. Suits? Heels? Tables without actual chairs? Little bits of food dressed up like dead butterflies on pins? Jethro likes to go _clubbing._ "

" _Okay_ , Jane, point taken. Those farm boys in the city. How about Jester then? He won't even _notice_ those things. He'll only have eyes for you." Pepper tittered prettily.

"Eyes, ears, hands… Honestly, Pepper. The _last_ thing I need is for Jester to follow me around all night and stare at me with his big, sad puppy dog eyes, too-tight pants, and man-bun. He'll probably spend the entire night sighing and trying to convince me that this is a _sign_ we should finally be together."

"What would be so terrible about that?" Pepper's voice had taken on a distinctly teasing quality. "Those gorgeous blond locks, and the soul of a poet…"

"Man-bun, Pepper. Man. Bun. Do you remember last year's Christmas party, when he sang me The Twelve Days of Janemas? With bells clipped into his beard? They jingled when he walked."

"Janemas." Pepper snorted. "The man knows what he wants, Petal, same as you."

"Well I know I don't want to go with Jester."

"All right…" if Jane didn't know better, she'd almost think Pepper's voice had taken a turn for the snide. "Cuthbert then. He comes from money and will fit right in."

"Too young. And handsy."

"And you would know that because…?"

"I'll never tell. Not Cuthbert, Pepper. Besides, I think he is dating some heiress or another."

"Then what about Rake? He was _made_ for this sort of thing, and you damn well know it. He'd be the life of the party; you'd hardly have to say a word. You'd hardly be _able_ to get a word in edgewise, which I'd think would suit you fine under the circumstances."

Jane rolled it over in her mind. Rake was _always_ a great date, cheerful, quick to produce _scathing_ commentary as they people-watched, and unabashedly, unapologetically, _fabulously_ gay. "There's an idea - Rake does tend to liven up a room. But how long until he lives up to that nickname of his and ditches me for some hot piece of ass?"

"I bet you'd make it at _least_ three hours, by which time you'd probably be ready to leave anyway. Win-win, Petal."

"Yeah, but could I survive all the -" Jane gave little cough, " _root_ jokes in the meantime?"

"And there you have it," Pepper said dryly, "exactly as I predicted. Congratulations, you've managed to shoot down four perfectly viable options. You're bound and determined to go alone and be as miserable as possible, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say I was _determined…_ " Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "What am I going to do, Pepper? I _know_ I need to go and mingle and network - but I can't imagine I'll be very effective if I am worried about him popping out to strike at me like snake in a cave. It _hurts_ , Pepper. Not the loss of the relationship - no, I'm over that - but the knowledge I wasn't good enough."

"Oh, Jane." The frustration had vanished from Pepper's voice in a heartbeat. Now it was warm, empathetic, an auditory hug across all the intervening miles, and Jane felt closer to tears than ever for it. "Nothing is _ever_ going to be enough for that man. He's going to spend his whole life chasing the next thing and the next, and in the end he'll still be empty, because he's _broken,_ Jane, broken inside and that is _no reflection on you._ You do know that, right!? Petal, PLEASE tell me you know that."

Jane's breath hitched as she gave a small hiccuping sob. "I know, Pepper." Tears fell freely, and she gave a long, unladylike snort. Wasn't it _just_ like Pepper to say the exactly right thing? Jane wiped her nose on her sleeve - no one could see her anyway. "I know," she reiterated. "He was - _is -_ an ass.

"Oh, God." Pepper sounded on the verge of tears herself. "Oh, _honey._ Look, I can come back, all right? I can... just... give me a half hour to pack and I'll be on my way to Heathrow -"

"No." said Jane, still sniffling, "No. You are right. I can handle this. I CAN handle this." Jane took a deep breath, releasing the tension that had built up in her chest. "I just wish I had a date. If only to keep me upright while I tromp around in that _ridiculous_ dress - you're not _actually_ serious about me wearing it, are you?"

" _Dead_ serious, Jane, this is the occasion that gown has been waiting for. You are going to be ravishing - date or no date. I wish I could be a fly on the wall to get a look at his face when he sees you, because he's going to be _sick_ over letting you go."

"You're a good friend, Pepper. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Oh, stop. It's just that you bring out the best in people, Jane. People who have _any_ good to be _brought_ out, anyway. But as to the problem at hand… if a date will help you feel more confident - despite the fact that you are _amazing_ all by yourself - then we need to get you a date. It _is_ short notice though. I think, the situation being what it is, probably the best option is just to _buy_ one."

"Yo- buh- _What_ did you say?"

"I said, let's _buy_ one. An escort. Easy peasy. Just a simple, clean-cut business arrangement; surely you can get behind _that_ concept, right? No muss, no fuss, no strings attached - no danger of muddying the waters with anything as abhorrent to you as _feelings -"_

"I - I - _can I do that?_ "

"Jane, you can buy _anything_ for the right price. What kind of businesswoman _are_ you?"

"One who likes to do the _work_ , and not the help."

"I said buy you a date, not buy you a lay. There _is_ a difference… or, well, there _can_ be." Pepper paused for a moment, thoughtful. "It won't be cheap, and I _do_ believe it's usually a package deal - meaning that the cost covers… any and all activities of a - uh - _nocturnal_ nature. But he's not going to _force_ that on you. You write the check, you call the shots. If he ends up having to do less work for the same amount of money, I doubt he'll complain… although one look at you in that dress and he'd probably be willing to go overtime."

"This is a joke, right? This entire conversation has been one long joke, and you've been messing with me this whole time. You're just offering up this _absurd_ idea as an option so I will cave and call Jester, give into his fawning, and pop out a bunch of little man-bun babies for _you_ to spoil rotten. Because there is _no way_ you just offered to buy me a hooker."

"They'd be _adorable_ , but that is neither here nor there. As for the _escort_ technically, you'd be paying for it - or rather, the company would be. I'd have to check but I think you can write it off."

"You did not just tell me I can _pick up a prostitute and get a tax write off out of it."_

"You'd have to check with Milton, but so long as you don't _actually_ do the dirty, it's a business entertainment expense - or maybe charitable contributions - This event _is_ a benefit, right? Oh, I don't know, just remember to save your receipts."

"Save… save my… this is… surreal… Pepper, I… no. No, I just can't. I just can't go, I can't, I don't know why I ever thought I could. Shit."

She'd been pacing the length and breadth of her spacious office but now she sank into her chair, planted her elbow on the glossy expanse of her desk and dropped her head into her hand. " _Shit,_ " she said again, with feeling.

"Was that a yes? I can set it up for you, Petal. It will only take a phone call -"

"I… how will… even if, IF, I entertain this insane idea, how would I know who… who he…"

"I'll make sure he is just your type - tall, handsome, all lean muscle and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of -"

Jane uttered a small and partially strangled laugh. Her past history indicated, if anything, that her _type_ had _less_ to do with how the man looked and _more_ to do with how much of a lying, cheating, untrustworthy dick he'd eventually turn out to be. The bigger the jerk, the more she invested into the relationship.

Although to be fair, _this_ would in no way, shape or form, resemble a relationship. Which was exactly the point. _Still_ , though -

"I don't know, Pepper…"

"Jane, you listen to me. I will do all the legwork, the only thing _you_ have to do is show up. I'll make sure he's easy to identify, take all the guesswork out of it. We'll stipulate that he'll be holding a rose for you, all right? Plus he'll be the handsomest man in the damn room. In the damn _building._ So I don't want to hear another objection out of you. You _will_ go, you will be _gorgeous_ and so will your date, you will talk to _actual people_ and you will _not leave before dessert is served_ or I will murder you. Are we clear?"

"I-" Jane stammered. This was _not_ a good idea. _So_ far from a good idea, it could be clearly identified as a _terrible_ one. This was not how the too-busy-to-date owner of a company found… _companionship_. Was it?

"Are. We. Clear?" Jane had rarely heard Pepper's voice this steely.

"I have reser-"

"PETAL."

"I am not a flower, Pepper!"

"And I am not a spice. Stop deflecting. You are a beautiful, powerful woman who is in need of a date for _one_ night. Let me do this for you."

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"... _allrightmakethecall._ " It came out as little more than a choked whisper, barely understandable. But Pepper knew her better than almost anyone, and Jane could practically hear her friend breaking into one of her dazzling, gap-toothed grins.

"Done."


	2. Chapter 2

The hotel was an Art Deco masterpiece, a dazzling remnant of a bygone era. Jane stood just outside, under the elegant marquee, at absolute war with herself.

Twice she'd gone to Pepper's salon - as ordered - the first time a few days ago to be waxed, plucked, and covered with various muds and wraps, and wasn't _that_ an experience she had no desire to repeat.

Good _God_ , it had hurt. She had no idea how Pepper - how _anyone_ \- was able to tolerate that sort of - of _trauma -_ on a regular basis.

Although… if she were being perfectly honest with herself, she was at least coming to an understanding of _why_. It actually felt rather nice to be so… well, _smooth_. But oh dear Lord, the process. It had been a full week ago and the experience was still _fresh_ in her mind. Lying on that padded table, fists clenched, breath hitching in anticipation as she'd braced herself for the next horrendous _RIP -_ whispering frantic affirmations to herself between gritted teeth.

 _I can do this. I'm strong. And I'm not putting myself through this just to show_ him _up. That would be petty and shallow, and that's not who I am. I'm doing this because I_ want _to do this. This is for me. For me. For me-EEEEEEE!_

Jane's mother had always maintained "It hurts to be beautiful". Jane personally thought this was _complete_ bullshit, and rejected the premise that she _needed_ to be beautiful at all. She was making her way through the world _just fine_ on a combination of brains, ambition, skill and sheer moxie. But all feminism aside she had to admit, she felt _powerful._ Like a predator, some big cat stalking its prey. A coug -

Oh, hell.

She wasn't exactly cougar age, but she _was_ marching - no, _gliding -_ gliding _gracefully_ \- into this hotel to pick up a stranger and _pay_ him to -

Nope.

No, no way, not happening, never in life. For what had to be the fifth time - at _least_ \- Jane whirled back toward the street, pawing frantically through her beaded clutch, searching for her phone.

This evening, as it stood, was a disaster, but if she actually went inside it would escalate to a full-blown _catastrophe,_ and no. Just no. She was going to Uber home and eat half a gallon of ice cream, _in_ the bath, and forget that she'd ever… she'd ever...

GodDAMN it.

She stopped again and turned, much more slowly this time, back toward the gilded double doors… and everything that lay beyond.

"You must be crazy," she whispered to herself. "Fucking _crazy,_ Jane Turnkey." She stopped herself, with a concerted effort, from raking a hand through her hair - she'd paid Pepper's stylists too damn much, too much by _half_ , to go and make a tangled mess out of it now.

The girls in the salon had made much of her hair, its striking color, its… startling _abundance._ Jane, for her part, usually considered the unruly mass an annoyance, when she thought about it at all - but she had to admit they'd done it proper justice for tonight. She wasn't sure what sort of magic they'd wrought, but gone was her customary nimbus of orange frizz. In its place was a cascade of red-gold curls that tumbled down past her shoulders, nearly loose.

Nearly, but not quite. Almost as an afterthought, the lead stylist had woven in a rope of pearls which gave the whole arrangement an almost… _medieval_ feel. It was… unusual. And Jane liked it.

And her dress - oh how Pepper had _squealed_ the first time she'd seen _it_.

Jane wasn't curvy, never had been, but the fit and flow of the dress accentuated what few assets she possessed. The style could _almost_ be described as a mermaid gown, but was split down the back and stitched with a manageable train of tulle. The top was a fitted halter -it was modest enough- and the back - well, there wasn't much _to_ the back except for a _loooong_ expanse of lightly freckled skin.

It allowed for a range of movement Jane could _never_ hope to achieve from most dresses - at least attractive ones - and in her secret heart of hearts, the little bit of fluff made her feel like a _lady._ But that was not the best part of the dress - the _best_ part - her _favorite_ part - was its _highly_ unusual embellishment.

Jane had never seen - never _felt -_ another like it.

The main body was covered, from top to sinuous bottom, with over-sized pointed sequins which had been stamped, tooled, then overlaid in a flowing pattern that shifted and shimmered with every movement. The entire piece was a deep, dark blue-green; in another life it could be aquamarine. The color and scale motif were probably meant to evoke the ocean, to call to mind graceful sea creatures or even a mermaid from the depths… but Pepper had immediately dubbed it the dragon-scale dress, and Jane liked that idea much better. It just… resonated with her, somehow. It felt… _powerful._ When Jane slipped into that sheath of scales, she could almost imagine _herself_ a dragon.

In this case… a dragon turning around and _going home._

Because there was no way, no fucking way in hell she was going to -

Jane spun again, back toward the curb, nearly tripping over her own high heels. Her questing fingers finally closed around her phone -

Only to have it immediately start vibrating in her hand.

Swearing under her breath, she fished it out, to be confronted by a new text from Pepper -

 _Get your stunning ass in there, Petal. NOW._

How? HOW? _How_ did Pepper know her so well?

Jane positioned herself so the hotel was clearly visible behind her, plastered on the sweetest smile in her repertoire, flipped her phone the bird, and took a picture. She'd barely sent it off to Pepper before the one-word response came through.

 _NOW._

Sighing, finally fully resigned to her fate, Jane tucked the phone away and walked back to the hotel doors.

And through them.

* * *

Once she got past the lobby and her own desire to run, _run_ , Jane was able to fully appreciate the grandeur of the ballroom. Christmas had come and gone, as had New Years, and all of the over-the-top holiday frippery had been pulled down and stowed away for another year.

The hotel was a grand old thing, with good bones and history, and in recent years had been modernized by an expert hand. Jane took in her luxurious surroundings; there was a flow to the room she didn't usually associate with Art Deco - it was bright, airy, open, and held none of that oppressive masculinity that seemed to permeate the style.

The colors were lighter than what she'd expected, the ceilings high. The room itself was open to a stained glass dome which soared majestically two stories above. Both floors were ringed by a series of little alcoves; each appeared sumptuous, comfortable, and secluded enough to afford privacy when needed. The whole space was reminiscent of an opera house that had abandoned its harsh reds and browns for much gentler shades of soft grey and muted plum… though the vast majority of the room was white. The dance floor - were it not covered at the moment by men and women who looked like moving artwork themselves - presented a subtle contrast in blacks and greys.

This, _this_ was how you did Art Deco.

Jane couldn't help but sigh at the beauty of it all. She wanted to look everywhere, all at once.

Still, first things were first. She immediately scanned the room for any sign of her ex.

It was impossible to see into every nook and cranny, every cozy alcove that lined the larger space. But she didn't _think_ he was there yet. He wasn't mingling, or dancing, or standing at the bar… and he wouldn't have tucked himself away in one of those little seating alcoves, not this early in the evening. He liked to be seen too much, to be noticed and admired. He thrived on attention, craved it, _needed_ it.

Drank it down like a vampire slurping blood.

And Jane, being on such anxious, high alert, would have spotted him immediately. So no, if he wasn't easily visible, then he most likely hadn't arrived yet…

Unless he'd concealed himself to lie in wait for _her_ …

Jane suppressed a shudder, then ordered herself, firmly, to stop being a ninny. He didn't _CARE_ enough about her to lie in wait for her. He'd _never_ cared about her; that's _why_ he was her ex.

It dawned on her that she was actually shaking a bit. Only a _very_ little bit, but… still.

 _I need a drink._

Jane turned her attention to the bar; started to wend her way toward it. She hadn't taken more than a few steps, however, when she stopped short all over again, the breath nearly knocked from her lungs, stunned to immobility not by the beauty of her environs this time, but by -

Heavens above, could that be _HIM?!_

The flower that he was twirling restlessly between his fingers said yes… but could that honestly be right? Jane blinked, hard, wondering if this, this _vision_ would vanish like a mirage on the horizon when she looked again, but no, he remained exactly where - and _as_ \- he was.

And what he was, was _perfect_.

She could barely credit her eyes.

She had to literally, if silently, _tell_ herself to start moving again.

 _Walk. Jane, walk._

More slowly now, she resumed her approach to the bar. He wasn't looking at her, his attention apparently fixed on the rose in his hands - he was _scowling_ at it, in point of fact - so she had ample opportunity to study him as she closed the last of the distance between them.

Still reeling, Jane wondered just exactly what this was going to _cost_ her. She really should have dragged some actual _specifics_ out of Pepper. Was there a… like a … sliding scale, or something? Because she was suddenly unsure whether she could even _afford_ this… service.

Because ... _Jesus._ The man was sex on a stick.

His suit was dark blue, almost black. It was sharp-looking, and perfectly fitted; Jane knew very little about men's fashions, but her disastrous relationship had taught her enough to know his suit was tailor-made and probably cost more than her first _two_ cars put together. Cut to precision, he could have been _poured_ into the fabric, it fit him so well.

His long legs hooked under his chair - and if she weren't wearing these _ridiculous_ shoes, he would tower over her when he stood. He was muscular but lean, and when he moved she could see his shoulders bunch under the fabric of his coat.

He still hadn't noticed her, so intent was his scrutiny of the flower he held, and for a moment Jane wondered if she was late. The rose _was_ a bit worse for wear, its petals wilted, stem broken. _How long had he been waiting?_

There was no _one_ feature which made him attractive - not his lightly tanned skin or long, aquiline nose; not the hint of a shadow on his jaw, nor his dark hair that was almost in need of a trim - no, it was the _combination_ that was breathtaking; the way everything came together to form a whole that was _more_ than the sum of his parts.

So… _so_ much more.

 _Just your type,_ Pepper had said. Jane sent up a brief, inarticulate prayer of thanksgiving that her friend knew her so well. She was going to have to take her out to dinner upon her return stateside. Or send her flowers or… good gravy. _Something_.

 _WALK, Jane._

Sensing her approach he turned his head - a small movement, subtle - just enough to meet her gaze.

Holy hell. _Holy hell in a handbasket,_ because that was where Jane was going.

Directly.

He had the kind of eyes that stopped women in their tracks; intensely grey, brooding, as turbulent as dark waters. They were spellbinding. She supposed he must have been used the reaction he provoked - he didn't say anything as she stared - but instead waited patiently for her to put herself back together again.

"Are, are you -" she had to stop, her voice barely more than a mortifying little squeak. She swallowed hard, rallied, and tried again.

"Are you -" she _could_ do this, she _would_ \- she forced a bit more surety into her tone as she murmured, "my prostitute?"

It must have startled him, her directness, because whatever he was expecting her to say, that was apparently _not_ it. His grey eyes first widened, then narrowed as he stared at her, saying nothing for an uncomfortably long moment. Jane felt heat rush to her cheeks, suddenly wondering whether, rose or _no_ rose, she'd actually approached the wrong man.

How abjectly, how _terminally_ embarrassing would _that_ be?

"Excuse me… _what?_ " He asked in a gravelly voice, one eyebrow quirking as he studied her.

"The flower," Jane pointed to the rose, still clutched between his long fingers, "are you my -" her voice dropped to a self-conscious whisper, "prostitute?"

He blinked and then stared mutely at her, then at the rose, then _back_ at her again, and Jane abruptly felt her courage fail her. Not completely, she didn't _quite_ feel the need to run screaming from the venue, but enough that she had to turn away - if only for a minute.

She snagged her lower lip with her teeth - to _hell_ with her lipstick - and signaled to the bartender, grateful for a chance to settle herself, a very little bit at least, before turning back to face her… _date._

Now it was his _lips_ , rather than his brows, that were quirked… into a very slight, _ridiculously_ charming, lopsided smile. "I believe the politically correct term is _escort._ "

Jane felt her blush deepen. If she was expected to pay him perfectly good money for his company this evening, the _least_ he could do was smooth this horrendous awkwardness down for her - not exacerbate it further with his… his… _mockery_.

And that _smirk._

"You can call it whatever you want," she snapped in a sudden rush of irritation, "but it still comes down to you sell your," she flapped her hand in the direction of his crotch, "... _sword_."

His eyes went wide with mock outrage, "I don't know that I've ever heard it described… _quite_ so, but you needn't make it seem so _cheap and tawdry_."

Jane gave him a _very_ deliberate once-over. She looked for any fault, any defect, anything, _anything_ at all that she could focus on. A loose thread, a scuffed shoe; whatever it took for her to regain her footing. There was _nothing._ "Somehow," she allowed, "I doubt you are anything close to _cheap._ "

His smirk was back. "That I am not."

"So are you?" she asked, as one hand absently smoothed the scales on her hip, over and over.

Now he was outright grinning at her. "Am I what?"

"Good fucking God," she nearly spat, "are you going to make me say it _AGAIN?_ "

He leaned so close his breath tickled her ear. "Are you always this rude to your prostitutes?"

" _Jesus_ , don't call it that. And no- I've never had one before."

"So you're just rude to me, then?" His eyes were positively glinting with suppressed mirth.

 _Ugh._ He was _laughing_ at her. The insufferable _jerk_.

"I -uh - oh, hell, I _told_ Pepper this was a bad idea."

The bartender returned with her drink. She had no idea what she'd ordered - how did women function around him?! - but she knocked it back in one shot.

His eyes widened ever so slightly, but he didn't comment. He probably thought her a lush or crazy or both, but god _damn_ it, this was difficult enough and she needed the liquid courage.

He must have understood, realized he had maybe pushed her a little _too_ far, because he raised his hand and both of their drinks were refreshed - with astonishing speed and efficiency, given that the bar was becoming increasingly crowded as more guests arrived to the gala.

Jane reached for her clutch - she'd yet to start a tab - but he waved her off. She even saw him catch the bartender's eye, angle his jaw toward her and give his head a very slight shake, as if indicating that she was not to be charged - at _all._ Of all the presumptuousness, acting as if he were the one footing the bill when really, she had _no doubt_ , a full accounting of _both_ their alcohol consumption would appear, meticulously itemized, on his invoice.

But oh, he wanted to play the gallant _now_ , she fumed. It took her a few seconds to tune back in to the fact that he was talking again.

"Just _what_ , exactly," he asked, leveling the full weight of that slate-colored gaze on her, "was a bad idea? Paying a complete stranger to provide services of the, ah, bedroom variety when - if you don't mind my saying - you could walk up to _any_ man _anywhere_ and he'd beg to go home with you? It seems like an _idiotic_ waste of money to me."

There was a beat of silence as Jane processed what he'd said. he'd essentially just called her irresistible - _and stupid. "_ Well there was a backhanded compliment if I've ever heard one," she managed at length. "Aren't you supposed to be charming?"

"I think the point is for me to be whatever you want me to be."

"That sounds like it would be fun for all of one night."

He didn't reply, just spread his hands as if to say, _yes - and?_

 _Ah… right._ Would any part of this evening _not_ be awkward or embarrassing?

"Point taken," she said. "I am _hoping_ you are my date for the evening - It used up what small amount of courage I had to even walk _into_ this party -"

"And approach a random man to ask if he was your prostitute?" He almost sounded - almost _looked_ \- impressed. "I'd say you had courage in spades."

Jane glanced away. "I was well-motivated by fear and even then Pepper had to threaten me with murder." She raised her glass, intending to exhibit a little more restraint. "Besides, you had the rose."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, I did. And this Pepper is my pimp?"

Jane choked on her drink, "Well I don't know about _that_ \- I was really just in need of moral support - but I bet she thinks she's _mine._ "

"I like her already. So what is your name?"

Jane gave him a long look, debating the wisdom, under the circumstances, of employing a pseudonym. But then, she was supposed to be mingling, making connections. She could hardly network under a false name.

Well, she _could_ , but -

 _Oh, what the_ hell. _In for a penny, in for a pound._

She held her hand out for the flower. "Jane."

"Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you're a liar - give me at least _some_ credit for being more than a -" he paused and winked, actually _winked_ at her - "pretty face. There is _no way_ a woman as clearly... _uncommon_ … as yourself has such an ordinary name as _Jane_. You just don't think I rate the real deal, being merely the help, and all."

"No. _Honestly._ It's Jane. Just Jane."

"Well then, _Just Jane,_ " he placed the wilted flower in her hand, taking the opportunity to trace his fingers along the delicate veins of her wrist. "My name is Gunther."

* * *

 _Laree A/N: We hope you've enjoyed the first two chapters of this story. There are seven more chapters to go - uploaded weekly - so drop us a fav, follow, or a review, they make our day!_


	3. Chapter 3

"So," he asked a moment later, studying her over the rim of his drink, "what was that about moral support?" He cast his eye around the room before looking back at Jane. "This doesn't seem so bad, all things considered. I attend a great many of these functions in my -" his lips twitched - " _capacity_ , and I'd hazard to say someone put a _lot_ of work into this one."

Jane made a concerted effort not to gulp at her own cocktail, tensing up all over again at the reminder of just _why_ she'd anticipated this evening being so difficult.

Why she'd been so desperate to not be alone tonight. Desperate enough to resort to measures as extreme as _this_.

"My, uh… my ex is is supposed to attend, and he… um… _we_ … did... not end well." She took a shuddery breath, hating that it still tied her up in knots to even talk about it. "I haven't seen him since things fell apart, and… I'd rather not see him again _ever_ , but… Pepper, who _usually_ handles these sorts of engagements, is out of the country, and well, _someone_ had to come and represent."

Gunther glanced around again. "Is he here _now?_ "

"I haven't seen him yet, no." Jane gave a small snort, then immediately wished she hadn't. It was an unattractively jaded little sound. "He'll give it another half hour or so, let the room fill up. He likes to make an entrance."

Gunther was watching her closely now, his expression unreadable. "He really hurt you." It was not even remotely a question; just a flat statement of fact.

Jane saw no point in denying it. At a loss for what to say, she opted to say nothing.

Gunther shifted, leaning slightly forward. "Tell me."

It was _her_ turn, now, to quirk an eyebrow. "Isn't it considered poor form to talk about one's ex on a date?"

"Technically, this is not a date."

"Touché," she replied, wondering why hearing him say that _hurt_ just a very little bit. It was only the truth, after all. "I suppose not. Well, he's tall, as pretty as any gilded adonis, and about as faithful as a dog with a third nut."

Gunther nearly spat out his drink. "That's not very ladylike," he observed, but his tone was one of _high_ amusement.

"No one has ever accused me of being such," Jane rejoined, with a touch of asperity.

"Well then, Jane, what exactly are you?"

She stirred her drink. "Can I get back to you on that? I haven't quite figured it out."

"Fair enough. Alright then, let's start smaller - what brings you here tonight? Networking, you said?"

Jane considered. "Yes and no," she answered at length. "My company donates to the charity and we're always looking to strengthen our ties in the community. If I should happen to make a few friends?"

"And what is it your company does?"

"We're a…" she hesitated. "A government contractor."

"Roadsigns? Flower gardens?"

"Software."

He leaned back in his seat, clearly assessing her. "And what do you do with that software?"

Now it was Jane's lips that twitched; she couldn't help it. "Government contracting."

Both his eyebrows rose, this time, in tandem. "Is this one of those, _if I tell you I have to kill you_ type answers?"

She sipped at her drink and held his gaze, offering no further response.

"Suddenly -" Gunther cleared his throat - "I find myself a bit intimidated." He appeared to cast about for a change of subject. "What do you do," he asked at length, "when you're not being a spy?"

"I could never be a spy. I am a _terrible_ liar."

"I _would_ agree with you, but it occurs to me this entire evening could be a _very_ elaborate ruse. After all, _you_ had a signal to look for, confirmation that I'm who you came to meet." He gestured to the rose, which now lay on the bar between them. " _I_ just have to take your _word_ that you're who you say you are. Does that really seem fair to you?"

She glanced at the wilted flower, then back at him. "Tell you what, if another woman walks up and asks if you're her prostitute tonight, you can take it for granted that she's your _real_ date and I'm an imposter. How does that sound?"

He gave a surprised laugh. "Deal… but what if I prefer _you?_ "

"Then I'll be in an excellent position to negotiate a discount."

"Good God," he said, with what sounded like real admiration, "I think I might be out of my depth."

Jane just smiled into her drink.

* * *

"This Pepper," he asked, after a pause to regroup, "who is not my pimp, what _is_ her title, then?"

"She's our Public Relations Director."

"Ah yes, hence being well-suited to these kinds of shindigs."

"Exactly. But -" she paused for just a heartbeat's worth of time - "the _owner_ , in a fit of unbridled dumbfuckery, sent her off to London, so here I am instead."

"Mmh. Here you are instead, despite being... less well-suited. So what _are_ you well suited to, Just Jane? What exactly _is_ your -" that mischievous glint was back in his eye - " _position_ in the company?"

"Tonight? Filling in for Pepper."

Gunther leaned forward and tilted his glass in her direction. "Cheers."

"What are we toasting?" She asked, confused.

"The dumbfuck owner of your company. For sending… his? Her?"

"Her."

" _Her_ PR person overseas just in time for this event. Because although I _do_ , as previously stated, like Pepper already, I think I like you more."

"I dare say. Just how much money do you stand to _make_ off me this evening?"

"Well… that would depend on the extent of services required, wouldn't you agree?"

"Pepper said it was a flat rate."

Gunther was clearly amused again. " _Pepper_ seems to know an awful lot about it. I'm not sure what I think of the company you keep."

"You just said you _liked_ Pepper," Jane pointed out.

"Increasingly, every minute. But still not as much as I like you. So I'd even be willing to go… a la carte. If that works better for you…" his eyes were suddenly burning holes in her. " _Jane._ "

"You're teasing me. I am not sure I like it."

"You do."

She huffed at a stray curl that was hovering, irritatingly, right at the edge of her vision. "I know I don't like how _smug_ you are."

He pasted a look of mock contrition onto his face. "Then I'll dial it back. I am, after all, here to serve."

"I don't think I've _ever_ ," she said emphatically, "met anyone less servile than you. There has to be more to you than - well. What do _you_ do when you're not doing… this?"

"In my free time? I like to travel. See the world. I like museums. I'm very interested in history, I have a sort of… _thing_ for the middle ages. Always have. Camelot and Chaucer and the Crusades… knights and dragons, all that good stuff. I have this collection of ancient weaponry, and… and holy _shit_ , why am I telling you this? I sound like the biggest dork that ever crawled out of the dork hole in the dork ground." He actually winced. " _Christ._ "

Jane had to work hard to school her face because heavens, was he… was he _blushing?_ The faintest tinge had crept into his cheeks and… how on earth could something be so endearing and so _arousing_ at the same time!? She never would have believed it possible, and she was suddenly just as flustered as _he_ seemed to be.

Which was to say, deeply.

He appeared _far_ more disconcerted by his imagined over-share (which Jane had actually found rather charming) than when she'd sauntered up and asked him point blank if he was her manwhore - and this thought nearly made her burst into laughter. But she quelled it, with great effort, because she sensed that it would… not go over well.

Instead she leaned in toward him. "I never missed a Renaissance Faire growing up, and I _have_ a dragon, you know."

"You… come again?"

Smiling, Jane fished out her phone and scrolled quickly through the photos before finding the one she wanted and passing the device to him.

"See? That's Dragon."

His eyes widened slightly and he whistled low under his breath.

"This is _yours?_ "

"As I said. Is that so hard to believe? Don't tell me you're a chauvinist, in _your_ line of work.'

"It's beautiful," he murmured, enlarging the photo to see it better, appearing almost transfixed. "I confess I don't know a whole lot about motorcycles, though. What is it, exactly?"

"A Triumph Thruxton. British Racing Green. I've had it two years. Dragon is… the next best thing to flying. Just makes me feel, I don't know, free."

"Do you ride often?" he asked, handing back the phone.

"Every chance I get. My job is rather sedentary; long hours in front of a computer screen. Don't get me wrong, I like what I do - love it, in fact. But it does create a certain need in me for… release."

There was a musing light in his eyes as he regarded her. "Extraordinary," he said softly.

"Oh, it _is_ ," she enthused. "There's nothing else like it, best feeling in the world -"

"I wasn't talking about the bike, Jane."

"Flatterer," she said, trying to keep things light for all that her stomach had just flip-flopped in response to his tone, the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I bet you say that to all your - _dates_."

He gave his head a single, definitive shake. "Not remotely. This is shaping up to be unlike any other encounter I've _ever_ had. So tell me more. What else do you do to seek… _release?_ "

"Rock climbing, Krav Maga -"

Gunther gave a bark of laughter. "Your ex must be a grade-A prime idiot, or else have a certifiable death wish, to have cheated on you!"

Jane shot him a sidelong glance. "I _do_ know people," she said demurely, "people of the shady and questionable variety - but really, I'm nothing so exciting as all that."

"I _beg_ to differ. But I apologize. I interrupted. What other utterly fantastic thing were you going to say after Krav Maga?"

"Oh - just um, fencing. That I also fence, so… you hardly have the monopoly on dorkdom here."

Gunther leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you trying to out-dork me, Jane? Because I'll have you know I was a Dungeons and Dragons geek all the way through middle school. And high school… _and_ college."

Then she really _was_ laughing, bright clear peals of it, her restraint entirely swept away.

 _This should probably be my last drink for a while_ , she thought, and yet… she didn't _really_ believe it was the alcohol that was turning her giddy.

No, it was the _company_.

God help her, she was really _enjoying_ this conversation. _Really_ enjoying it. Deeply and genuinely. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun… _flirting._

"Competitive, aren't you?" She asked at length, when she could once again string words together.

"Sometimes. It's only the truth, though. My character's name was BroadSword."

"You _cannot_ be serious."

"Oh I am."

"No.. no, you are pulling my leg."

"I am doing no such thing, I assure you."

" _BroadSword?_ Come on. I _know_ you're teasing me."

"Nope."

"Isn't that a bit ...precise? _Optimistic?_ "

"You wound me." That smirk was hovering about his lips again. "I was _nine_ when I chose it _._ And terribly innocent."

"You were prophetic. Or possibly just very, _very_ ambitious."

"I was _NINE_. My major ambitions included kissing Abigail Fenner in my treehouse and building an operational go-kart. And of course, kicking serious butt at Dungeons and Dragons." His smirk broadened. "My party once received a cloak of tongues - you'd _think_ it'd give you the ability to speak different languages, but no. You have to _lick_ anything within thirty yards. Guild rules."

"Now you're just being cheeky." Jane glanced around, noting that the event seemed to have gotten fully underway at some point during all their lovely banter. "Anyhow, Gunther - or should I say, _BroadSword_ \- it's time to earn your paycheck."

Gunther, having just taken another sip of his drink, promptly choked. " _What?_ "

"Aren't you adorable when you're pretending to be prudish?" Jane stood and smoothed her gown; resisted, _again_ , the urge to run her fingers through her hair. She would _not_ destroy what Pepper's team of crack stylists had worked so hard to create. What she had paid them so _much_ to work so hard to create. Would not.

She forced her restless hands back down to her sides and said, "I need to mingle."


	4. Chapter 4

They worked their way through the glittering ballroom at a leisurely pace, Jane chatting with those relatively few attendees she knew well and forging new connections with the many she did not, Gunther never more than a whisper away from her.

He was, Jane decided, _singularly_ gifted at what he did. Based on his demeanor, she might as well have been the only woman in the room - hell, the only woman in the _city_. He was the very soul of attentiveness, without ever crossing the line to overbearing.

It was… _nice._ Very, _very_ nice.

A light touch at her elbow or the small of her back, the way he clasped her hand loosely in his own so they wouldn't get separated as they wove a path through the other guests in the increasingly crowded room.

And watching _him_ navigate the party - now, that was a thing of true beauty. He really _must_ attend a lot of these events, Jane thought, because he positively radiated self-assurance; moved through the space as if he _owned_ it.

He received admiring - and speculative - glances from most of the women in attendance, she couldn't help but notice, and small wonder. _His_ attention, however, remained focused unswervingly on her. It was deeply gratifying, if a little distracting at times; when he brushed a few errant curls off her neck with his fingertips, she shivered right down to her toes.

He was also drawing her closer and closer to himself, she realized; erasing the distance between them inch by inch, intuiting her next move and matching himself to it, turning them almost into a single unit, a single… entity. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced with another date. It was unexpected, and delightful, and very nearly intoxicating, in a way no drink had ever been.

"Gunther, how lovely to see you again!"

Jane started - it was odd to hear someone address him by name - but she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. He _was_ in his element here, after all. These were his natural environs, so it was hardly shocking that he'd be - _known_ \- to at least some of the partygoers. Or at least, it _should_ hardly have been shocking. Jane found herself slightly jarred, though, all the same.

His arm had been around her waist; he'd been smoothing the scales at her hip in an offhand, almost casual way. But he went suddenly still, and she felt him tense up at the sound of his name.

It was awkward, sure - Jane certainly didn't want everyone here knowing she'd had to hire an _escort_ as her date - but it didn't quite explain the _something_ that flashed across his face. There was a slight crease in his brow, a tension to his shoulders, a barely contained anxiety which he suppressed faster than it appeared.

He took a little half-step before apparently thinking better of it, then detangled himself from Jane - she hadn't realized they'd become so entwined as they'd chatted - and pivoted to meet the elegant woman who had just hailed him.

Gunther beamed at the newcomer, clasped both her hands in his own, and leaned forward to kiss her cheeks.

She was _stunning_ , a work of natural and professional art. She was perhaps fifteen or twenty years older than Jane herself, though it could have been as much as thirty. It was difficult to gauge under the designer dress, expensively toned body, and miraculously sculpted skin.

"Kathryn, how lovely you look this evening. Positively aglow. How is it that every time we meet, you're younger and more beautiful than the last?"

Jane sucked in a small, but decidedly sharp, breath. Just how many… _meetings_ … had the two of them _had?_ Clearly she was in the presence of a repeat customer; possibly even a regular? Her chest tightened just the tiniest bit, and it wasn't only disconcertion at the thought that if this woman knew Gunther, then she also knew Jane was here with an escort. No, there was more to it than that; there was a little twinge of _jealousy_ there. She told herself firmly that it was patently ridiculous to feel that way, but -

Ridiculous or not, there it was.

"Oh, do stop," Kathryn shook him off and batted playfully at his shoulder. "You scandalous charmer." Her mouth pulled into a delicate little pout as she pretended to be unimpressed by Gunther's compliments. The slight tinge on her cheeks, though, implied otherwise. "Did you see," she continued, "that Lillian's here too? She talks about you _ALL_ the time." She waggled a perfectly manicured hand in his direction. "You always were her favorite, you know."

Jane repressed what surely would have been an uncouth sound - probably an embarrassing cross between a snort and a bark of horrified laughter - and took a sip of her drink to hide her smile.

No doubt Gunther was _everyone_ 's favorite.

Every _woman_ ' _s_ favorite?

Did Gunther accept male clients?

...Now _there_ was an enticing visual.

The slight movement attracted the older woman's interest and her head swiveled to focus on Jane.

Jane couldn't help but be intimidated, the woman was the personification of grace and old money... but she seemed genuinely curious and her smile was friendly enough for someone who was - no doubt - rather blatantly assessing the newest addition to Gunther's clientele.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your date?"

"Of course," he replied, all traces of his earlier discomfort gone. "Jane, this is Kathryn. Kathryn, this is my date for the evening, Jane."

"Just Jane?"

"Just Jane … for now."

"Always the man of mystery. Isn't she a bit out of your league?"

"Absolutely, but don't tell her that."

"Aren't you just adorable." Kathryn gave his cheek a small pat before addressing Jane directly. "It is so very lovely to meet you, my dear. I saw you earlier and wanted to compliment you on your choice of dress - it is nothing short of magnificent, and your _hair?_ I couldn't buy that color if I wanted - and even then, would _never_ have been able to pull it off. Perfectly stunning."

"Thank you, it is very kind of you to say so."

"Hardly, it is merely the truth. And Gunther? Is he being a gentleman?"

"Of course."

"Good, you keep a firm hand on him and his attitude - he can be quite the challenge - and don't let him ride you too hard."

Gunther produced a strangled, choking sound from somewhere behind her.

Kathryn gave him a concerned look, sparing Jane from needing to produce an answer. "Are you quite alright?" She asked. At his nod to the affirmative, she turned her attention back to Jane. "In any case, my dear, compliments to your triumphant ensemble. You put every other woman here to shame."

"Everyone but you, of course." Gunther chimed in, apparently having recovered his composure. His tone was kind, but ever so slightly dismissive - he seemed almost desperate to get rid of her, despite their friendly rapport.

Professional courtesy, Jane supposed, though it was strangely nice to see him so… perturbed. It was good to know he wasn't _quite_ as wholly unflappable as his outward appearance implied.

Kathryn gave him a disbelieving, indulgent smile. "Incorrigible. Now I'd better be off," she said, appearing to pick up on his unspoken cue. "Don't let Lillian catch you with this goddess on your arm, or she will be jealous and feel the need to regale everyone with the tale of you running around the hotel buck naked."

And with that, she disappeared into the throng.

Jane stared stupidly after her and tried - unsuccessfully - to banish that particular visual from her mind.

"Aren't you going to ask?" He was close again, his hands back on her hips.

Jane gave her head the barest of shakes - whether in negation or to chase away the picture of Gunther sprinting through the hotel in a state of total undress, she wasn't sure - "I think, perhaps, it is better if I do not."

He seemed relieved, "Shall we dance then? Take a break from the mingling?"

"Yes, please." She gave a breathy little laugh - a release of tension she hadn't known she'd let build - as he led her to the dance floor. "I'm not sure I am comfortable with all of these people thinking I need ...you."

"I can promise you no one thinks that -" he wrapped himself around her and dipped his head so that his lips were moving against her temple as he murmured, "if anything, it's the other way around."

It was easy, so disconcertingly _easy_ to let herself get lost in him. To pretend that this _was_ in fact, a real date and that all of his solicitous attention was really just for her and her alone.

"You are very, very good at what you do." She ran her hand down his chest and smoothed his lapel.

"And what is that?" He rumbled, his voice low.

As if he didn't know.

She'd opened her mouth to answer - a compliment or a retort, she wasn't sure - when Jane spotted _HIM_ at the entrance.

Immediately, all the unease, the apprehension, the _anxiety_ of seeing her ex came flooding back.

Gunther noticed the change immediately; she'd stiffened in his arms ever so slightly, missed a step of their dance as the warring needs of fight and flight - or God forbid, _freeze_ \- ruined her coordination and chased away whatever warmth had been pooling low in her middle.

Gunther studied her pale face, took in the look of - God she _hated_ that he had this effect on her - _FEAR_ the mere sight of him brought. Then he resumed their swaying, ever so subtly rotating them so he could scan the entrance for the source of her discomfort.

"Is that him? The asshole of the golden fleece, honeyed tongue, and wandering dick?"

"Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?" Jane rejoined.

He scowled down at her, annoyed for some unfathomable reason.

"I apologize," she said sincerely. "He makes me… edgy. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Yes. That's him. That's Algernon."

A growl emanated from somewhere deep in his chest, a weirdly protective and reassuring sound. His eyes, zeroing back in on the man who'd just come swanning into the room, narrowed momentarily to slits - before he remastered himself, and even managed a laugh. "What the hell kind of name is _Algernon?_ It's almost as if his mother took one look at him and just _knew_ he'd be an asshole."

It was an attempt to distract her; a means to cheer her up and bolster her confidence. Jane appreciated the effort - it _was_ , after all, her purpose for hiring him in the first place - but now that the moment had arrived she felt nothing but trepidation.

"You weren't kidding," Gunther observed, "he really does like to make an entrance." Jane twisted in an attempt to see what ridiculous foppishness Algernon was getting up to, but thought better of it. She'd witnessed his grandiose arrivals before; been part of them, in fact. Jane herself had once been an ornament, an _accessory_ , to the _spectacle_ that was Algernon.

 _Everything_ about his personage - _including_ the people with whom he chose to surround himself - was deliberate, farcical, _vain_ , and carefully calculated in order to attract attention and showcase himself in the best possible light.

"His suit is _purple_ ," Gunther continued, "and there's gold filigree on his sleeves. I could be wrong, but I think it matches the metalwork over the bar. Did he - did he have his suit _tailored_ to match my - the venue?" He sounded incredulous. "Are you sure _he's_ not my pimp?"

Jane didn't respond - couldn't without making a fool of herself.

Gunther caught her eye. "Do you want to go?"

 _Yes. No._

Jane felt _wretchedly_ conflicted. Leaving would be simpler. She'd done her duty for the company and there was _no_ need for her to suffer Algernon's presence and whatever venomous vitriol he would undoubtedly fling at her. But on the other hand, just _being_ here was a personal triumph; she had needed to overcome _so many_ of her own insecurities to get to where she was currently standing wrapped in the arms of this beautiful, beautiful man. And - she was slightly embarrassed to admit it, _but_ \- she'd been having a good time. A great time, actually. Physical attractiveness aside, Gunther was funny and charming and weirdly endearing and… and FUCK Algernon for ruining it all by just _existing_.

"No."

"Are you sure - we could just -"

"No."

"I think -"

"I am not paying you to think." She meant it as a joke, but immediately regretted it. It didn't so much just miss the mark as whiz _completely_ past it, an arrow flown wild. There was the smallest bit of hurt in his silvery eyes. It was her turn, now, to wince. "Gunther, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it - it was considerate of you to offer. I was nervous, I... _am_ nervous - afraid even - and it fucking _kills_ me that he still has that power."

Gunther nodded, accepting her apology with more grace than she deserved… then trailed one hand down her back, dragging his short nails along the bare skin there until just the tips of his fingers snuck inside the plunging backline of her gown. He pressed her closer until they were molded together; her body fit his perfectly and she could hear the steady thump of his heart. His smell surrounded her - citrus and leather - and she leaned into his heat.

"Do you still love him?"

"Heavy material for a first date."

"As we discussed previously, this is still technically, not a date. But you don't have to answer."

Why shouldn't she, though? Gunther would be the last person to judge her - and there was something so oddly freeing about, just, their ... _situation_.

"I'm not sure I ever did," she said, "not really. But I _wanted_ to. Maybe the _idea_ of him, or more specifically, the ideas of _us._ That's what I mourned."

"But not anymore?"

"No. No, not anymore." There was a beat of silence as she gathered her courage. "I suppose I'll have to face him eventually."

Gunther leaned down to nuzzle her neck. She tilted her head instinctively - she no longer quite had control of her body - to allow him better access. He dragged his teeth along the sensitive skin there, and nipped at where her pulse was suddenly beating _far_ too rapidly. A little moan escaped before she could quell it, and she felt him smile against her neck, pleased with her response. He pulled back ever so slightly and trailed wet kisses up her neck to her ear.

"Good," he whispered, "Because he's spotted you and is coming this way."


	5. Chapter 5

Jane took in a shaky breath, trying to fill her lungs and ground herself, with only the most limited success. She was hyper-aware of Gunther holding her, the length of his body pressed against hers, his lips still teasing her neck and ear with delicious, shiver-inducing little kisses… but she was even _more_ aware of the fact that Algernon was approaching from somewhere behind her. It made her feel almost heart-stoppingly vulnerable and she tensed up, hands clenching in the obscenely expensive material of Gunther's suit, almost as if she were anticipating the sensation of a literal knife plunging into her back… and why not? Algernon had backstabbed her _before_ , undeniably.

She really _wasn't_ getting enough air; her breath was hitching and, she realized distantly, she'd started to worry her lip with her teeth. Then Gunther murmured in her ear, "Jane? I've got you."

And suddenly, just like that, she could breathe again.

It was remarkable, really.

It was a tacit declaration of support… no, better than that, of _partnership_ , of, _I have your back_ , and it was exactly what she needed in that moment. How did he _know?_

She heard Algernon clear his throat behind her; it was an unmistakable sound, impatient, presumptuous. But Gunther, smiling slightly now into her hair, kept them dancing until Algernon was forced to clear his throat _again_ , more insistently this time.

Only then did Gunther stop their swaying, straighten up, and give Jane a subtle nudge, dispersing the little bubble he'd created around the two of them. Jane swallowed hard, and turned to face her ex.

Algernon looked good - of _course_ he did, didn't he always? - all lean lines and custom-tailored suit. And Gunther had been absolutely right; the stitching on his sleeves _did_ match the decor of the hotel. It made him seem cold, as untouchable as a sculpture chiseled from marble, and she resented him for how calm and collected he appeared, while she herself was a riotous tumble of hot distress.

His date for the evening was no one Jane knew, for which she was deeply grateful. She was absolutely gorgeous, though - beautiful almost to the point of being nondescript; just another accessory for the _presentation_ that was Algernon.

Although… it wasn't like Jane to be judgmental or dismissive. Realizing she was being unfair, she looked again, attempting with at least _some_ success to see past the filter of her jaded heart. The girl - _no, woman,_ her mind corrected, though the description could be bettered with the preface " _just barely"_ \- appeared young, stupid, and earnestly nice. She was probably just as impressed with the luxe surroundings as _Jane_ had been on her arrival, and Jane actually felt a quick pang of sympathetic camaraderie for her.

After all, Jane had once been young and stupid and nice, naive enough to be taken in by Algernon's perfect facade.

"Jane Turnkey," Algernon said, in a smooth-as-silk voice, one arm snaking possessively around his own date as he spoke, "I confess I am surprised to see you here. I don't recall this sort of event being your particular forte. Was Pepper unavailable, or did she finally take herself off to greener pastures?"

Implying, of course, that Jane, that her _company_ , had little to offer to someone of Pepper's caliber. It was a dig - a not-so-subtle one at that - and it _stung_.

Behind her, Gunther gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. It wasn't much - just a gentle reminder that she was _not_ alone, and that she _could_ do this.

 _Breathe, Jane. Shoulders back, chin up._

She flashed Algernon the brightest, the _friendliest_ smile she could muster.

"Not a bit - Pepper is the very soul of loyalty; it would never cross her mind to stray. As it happens, she's in London for the convention next week, so I'm here in her stead." She leaned, ever so slightly, into Gunther's chest. "Though I _am_ finally starting to see the ...appeal of these events."

Algernon's eyes positively glittered with suppressed malevolence. A crack - small, but inarguably there - in his cool demeanor. Jane could see him struggling against the impulse to lash out at her, and conquering it - but barely.

Barely.

His lips pressed into a tight, white line, nostrils actually flaring slightly with the force of the anger, the - _jealousy!?_ \- she had just provoked. Turning his attention now to Gunther, Algernon raised one golden eyebrow and sneered. "Algernon DeRobert," he bit out. He did not extend his hand.

Ignoring the slight - indeed, ignoring Algernon altogether - Gunther instead gave a little bow to the woman on Algernon's arm. "Gunther Breech."

"Bunny," the young woman responded, and Jane bit down on her lip again, this time in order to quell a burst of completely inappropriate laughter.

 _Of_ course _she is._

The girl - the woman - _Bunny (for God's sake)_ \- was gawping at Gunther with that same deer-in-the-headlights expression that Jane herself had doubtless sported earlier in the evening. It took several seconds for her to assert enough mastery over herself to give a pretty little titter.

Jane was so amused by her reaction - she understood, _really_ she _did_ \- that she almost didn't notice how Algernon's eyes widened ever so slightly at the introduction. There was something there - was that a spark of _recognition?_ \- but Jane wasn't able to pin the emotion down with any certainty before it was replaced by plain old untempered spite.

"And you are here with Jane?" Algernon asked in a deceptively laconic tone. "How very interesting. I didn't know she travelled in such… esteemed circles."

Jane felt her breath catch in her throat. Was he mocking her? Did he know? _Could_ he know!?

 _No, no, oh please God NO -_

"We are newly acquainted," Gunther said smoothly, "thanks to the elusive Pepper, actually - a circumstance for which I am deeply and ever increasingly grateful. I find myself rather stunned by my good fortune, in fact." He then turned back to Bunny, making a concerted effort to include her in the conversation. "I see you have been just as fortunate in your company for the evening."

Bunny, bless her sweet, simple little rabbit heart, tittered again. Algernon, jaw clenched, said nothing.

"You look enchanting this evening," Gunther continued, now addressing Algernon's date directly. "It can't have been easy, finding a dress the exact right shade to complement your eyes."

Jane nodded her own agreement as the girl blushed prettily. Her eyes were an unusual and striking tawny-golden color; Jane didn't think she'd _ever_ seen eyes quite that shade before. She found herself sympathizing with Bunny _again_ \- feeling almost sorry for her, in fact - because she probably _had_ put a great deal of effort into coordinating her ensemble for tonight.

And Jane was positive - _POSITIVE_ \- that Algernon would not even have noticed, let _alone_ complimented her on the thought, the care, that had gone into it all.

To the contrary, he'd probably found some small detail or other to nit-pick in the car.

"I am not sure I approve of you hitting on my date, Mr. Breech." To an outsider it might have sounded as though Algernon was joking - a little jest between two equal but opposing forces - Jane, however, heard the underlying disquietude, the dare she say, _anxiety_ behind it.

It was good - no, it was _wonderfullyfantabulouslydisgustinglyamazingly_ gratifying to know that he was _not_ entirely immune to feelings of insecurity, after all.

It was petty, and she tried to stomp down on the feeling, to quell it before her satisfaction could show on her face, but she must not have been entirely successful because a second later Algernon was sneering at _her_.

"Since you are so… _admiring_ of my date, though, perhaps we could trade off for a few minutes," Algernon continued. He extricated his arm from Bunny and extended it to Jane. "Would you care to dance?"

 _Shit._ So much for him being thrown off his game. He'd seen her small triumph and known exactly how ruin it.

"How very kind of you to offer, Algernon, but I'm afraid I will have to decline." Jane brought one hand up to her neck - surely the pale skin there was still pink from Gunther's attentions. "I really should return to mingling. It _was_ my whole purpose for attending tonight. I'm sure you won't be too disappointed. Your own partner is _so_ lovely, after all."

"Think nothing of it, Jane; I can see how you'd be reluctant to let such a _prize_ out of your sight." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Just _wait_ until the gossip rags get ahold of this one. They are going to _rip - you - apart_." He stepped back and looped his arm around Bunny's waist again, one eyebrow quirked at Jane in a gloating little half-smile.

Wait, _what?_

He knew. _HE KNEW._

Algernon practically _lived_ for this sort of event - and Gunther himself seemed fairly well-known - their paths must have crossed at some point and _holy shit,_ Algernon _KNEW._

But the press? How would they find out? There wasn't any press _in_ the party as far as she'd seen - just the photographer hired to take pictures of the guests as they arrived. Jane had come alone and had declined having _her_ picture taken, so was Algernon threatening to call the tabloids _himself?_

He would, too. He would. It would be just the sort of weapon, the sort of _half-truth_ he'd wield to wound her, time and time and time again.

Gunther hadn't heard what Algernon had whispered, but he must have intuited the nature of it. He politely ended his conversation with Bunny, and caught Jane's attention.

"I hate to interrupt, Jane, but I can see that Kathryn is attempting to capture your attention."

"Um, what?"

"Kathryn - she's _all_ a-flutter. Should we venture over to see what she wants before she injures herself?"

"Oh - yes. Of course."

Gunther nodded to Algernon and gave Bunny a small bow. "If you will excuse us."

He captured one of Jane's trembling hands in his own, wrapped his free arm securely around her waist, and led them off the dance floor toward where Kathryn was chatting with a group older gentleman. Before they reached her, though, Gunther steered sharply left - then ducked into one of the many opera-like alcoves that circled the ballroom.

He didn't bother asking if she was alright; it was _patently_ obvious that she wasn't. But he didn't offer her empty, meaningless platitudes either, as so many others might have. In fact, he said nothing at _all_ … for the first couple of minutes, at least. He simply settled her on one of the soft benches, then raised her hand - which was still clasped in his own - and pressed it over his heart, covering and holding it there.

It took several tumultuous moments, but eventually her heart rate slowed; almost, it seemed, matching itself to the steady rhythm of _his_ , which she could feel thrumming reassuringly beneath her hand. The rushing in her ears subsided as well, until she was able to make out the words he'd started murmuring over and over again; a simple, soothing repetition.

"Steady - steady - deep breaths."

Finally, finally, she gulped and whispered, in an only _slightly_ shaky voice, "I am not weak, you know."

"Never would I _ever_ imagine anything so obviously untrue," he said quietly. "But right now you _are_ very, _very_ angry. Moral support, remember?"

Jane managed a small nod.

"Do I want to know what he said?"

She had to swallow again before she could make her voice work well enough to answer. "He said he would tell the press about my date with you. He'd use it to ruin my reputation - damage the company."

"He doesn't have that sort of power, Jane."

Her voice was dull now, almost dead with horror as she contemplated the havoc Algernon was about to wreak on her life. "People believe what they want to believe."

"Jane... I... don't think you have anything to worry about." He sat quietly for a minute, contemplating. Then, "I'll go get us a drink," he said. "Maybe something to eat as well."

He stood up to leave.

"Gunther -" she began.

"Yes?" He paused to study her.

"Nev…nevermind."

He looked at her a second longer, then nodded, turned, and vanished without saying anything more. _And that's the last I'll see of him_ , Jane thought miserably. She wouldn't be at _all_ surprised - nor would she blame him in the least - if Gunther used this opportunity to leave, to simply bail on their… their not-date. Jane was obviously unbalanced. She'd nearly had a panic attack on the dance floor, for fuck's sake.

He was barely out of sight when the alcove darkened again - a new form blocking out the light from the ballroom. Jane looked up, hardly even surprised to find Algernon standing over her.

He'd clearly been lying in wait.

Distantly, she wondered what he'd done with his date.

"Ah, Jane." His cultured voice was tinged with amused condescension. "How _very_ much like you to scuttle off and hide." He glanced around innocently, as though he didn't know _full well_ that Gunther had _just_ left. "I see your date has abandoned you - no real surprise there - you _do_ manage to chase off the most impressive of catches, don't you?"

"What do you want, Algernon?" Her voice was flat, but it wasn't the sort of flatness she'd have _liked_ to project. Not a strong, flinty, unassailable sort of flatness. No, this was the flatness of resignation; _defeat_.

This man was going to ruin her. He knew it and he knew _she_ knew it.

And oh, he was _reveling_ in it.

Jane felt very nearly ill.

"Oh, I don't _want_ anything," he said smoothly, "except maybe to congratulate you on your rather ... _significant_ upgrade." He chuckled, a mirthless, evil little sound. "Quite the accomplishment for someone such as yourself. Though I am not entirely surprised - I always felt you stood to gain quite a bit more from our association than I did - even as short and unremarkable as it was. Still, I _must_ say… I never would've taken you for a common golddigger. Although it looks as if you're having no more success with this current… _venture_ … than you did in keeping _my_ interest." he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I am going to tell _everyone_ about this."

It confused her, his comment - where in God's name did _gold digging_ enter into this!? But much more than that, it simply _hurt_ \- the implication that Gunther had abandoned her, coming so soon after she'd had that exact thought herself - and that Algernon was going to tell the press she hadn't even been able to keep the attention of her _paid_ companionship.

 _God_ , that fucking smarted. Even if it _was_ , apparently, true.

Sluggish at first but rapidly mounting, Jane felt the anger, that _white hot_ feeling she associated with his betrayal - start to rise in her, overtaking her thought process, clouding her vision. Tinting it slightly red.

"Not everyone is like _you_ , Algernon." she hissed. "Just a vain, grasping, status-obsessed, shallow _bastard!_ "

"You are _adorable_ when you're mad." Sliding onto the bench beside her, he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the bare skin of her shoulder. "Perhaps I should have made you angry more often - I might not have felt the need to explore _other options_ quite so regularly."

Jane slapped his hand away. "Keep your hands off me."

"Not too smart, Jane." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I _could_ be enticed to hold my tongue, you know… if you were to play nice." Quick as a striking snake, he grabbed the back of her neck and covered her mouth with a sloppy, disgusting kiss.

She jerked her head away, nausea surging within her as Algernon simply latched onto the place where her throat met her jaw, instead.

Face contorted with revulsion, Jane jabbed him, quite neatly, in the throat.

He rocked away from her and shot back to his feet, coughing. "You _bitch._ You'll _whore_ yourself out, but -" He stepped menacingly toward her, raising one hand to strike.

Her martial arts training took over - she could almost hear the little _click_ as it happened - and Jane just acted.

She propelled herself to her _own_ feet, ducking under his blow in the process and, taking in the almost comically surprised look on his face, grabbed his lapel to pull him toward her. The motion threw him off balance, and just as he started to stumble, she used her free hand to punch him squarely in the nose.

There was a sickening crack and his face exploded in a spray of blood. Jane released his suit and used both hands to shove him backward, managing to avoid any spatter to her gown. She really _liked_ this gown. Algernon, meantime, reeled out of the alcove and into the ballroom proper, bringing both hands up to cover the ruined pulp of what had lately been his nose.

"Yew _unging ung!"_

Jane started after Algernon again, no longer thinking clearly - no longer thinking at _all_ \- just _burning_ , suddenly, to finish what she'd started... when out of nowhere, Gunther reappeared. He was bearing two drinks and a small plate of food - he hadn't abandoned her, after all - and he quickly inserted himself between Jane and the bloody, hissing mess before her.

Setting down the food and drinks on a nearby table, he placed both hands on her shoulders and steered her wordlessly across the room, behind the bar, and through a pair of double doors that seemed to lead to the kitchen.

"Stay." His voice was tight with… something Jane couldn't quite identify. But whatever it was, she didn't think it was directed at her.

"I- you - he-!"

"I know." He squeezed her shoulders, gently. "Stay. _Please_. Just for a moment. I'll be _right_ back."

She managed a single, mute nod.

Gunther strode back out of the double doors to whisper something to a large man who, Jane only now realized, had followed them from the ballroom. Party security, no doubt. Gunther pointed in Algernon's direction, made a grim little hand gesture, then turned and came straight back to her. Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her through the steamy, bustling kitchen to a service elevator.

Jane was so angry she was only peripherally aware of where they were going. Just who in the _hell_ did he think he was, manhandling her like this?!

Rationally, she understood that her anger was misdirected. She was still boiling over with fury at Algernon, and Gunther was simply the nearest - actually, at the moment, he was the _only -_ available outlet. She realized this, but the knowledge was distant and academic. It did nothing to blunt the force of her rage. She was crackling with it, damn near throwing off sparks. The elevator doors slid closed and she immediately yanked her hand out of his.

"What was that!?" She demanded, practically spitting the words. "I don't need you to come - _charging in_ \- like some dark knight riding to my rescue."

Algernon would have smirked, if not laughed outright, at her emotional display. Gunther did neither. He backed up a step, as it was obvious she wanted space, and looked at her very seriously.

"I think it is crystal clear," he said, "to _everyone_ in that room, that you are no helpless damsel in distress. Perhaps, Just Jane, I should hire _you_ to protect _me._ "

She stared at him for a beat, then two, then three, fists and teeth clenched hard. Then she pulled in a shuddery breath and sagged against the elevator wall, suddenly unsure whether she was about to laugh or cry.

What was _wrong_ with her? Gunther didn't deserve this. He'd been nothing but a _perfect_ gentleman all evening. It was unfair to take her anger at Algernon out on him - and doubly inexcusable since she _knew_ that was what she was doing.

"Fuck," she croaked, "Gunther, I'm sorry." And how many times was this, that she'd needed to apologize for her behavior during their _very_ brief acquaintanceship? It was mortifying. She pressed the heel of one hand hard against her forehead, trying desperately to recenter herself, regain some shred of equilibrium. "Oh my God, what just happened? What did I just _do!?_ Did I wreck the whole party? I created a public _scene!_ What if he calls the police? Gunther, I _punched_ him in his smarmy, bastard _face!_ "

"Yes, yes you did. That was astoundingly hot."

"I am being _serious._ Jesus, he could have me arrested!"

"I am too. I imagine you had a valid reason for laying him out?"

"Yes. But it will be his word against mine."

Gunther held out his hand. After only a second's hesitation she slipped hers into it, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "It will be his word against the cameras that are mounted in the alcoves. Security probably pulled the footage before they turned him over to the police."

"Cameras...?"

"I doubt Mr. DeRobert's notions of blackmail will hold very much water."

All the fight drained out of her. "I suppose it would be your job to know."

Gunther appeared highly amused by this for some reason, his eyes suddenly alight with subtle mirth. "Yes," he said. "It would." He tugged her forward into a hug.

She went willingly, grateful for his unfaltering reassurance and support. They stayed that way for a few minutes, her head nestled against his collarbone, his chin resting on the crown of her hair.

 _Steady,_ she thought, repeating to herself the same words he'd used to ground her earlier, in the alcove. _Steady. Deep breaths._

It took quite a while for it to dawn on her that the elevator in which they were currently standing did not seem to be doing… much of _anything._

Jane pushed herself up but didn't step away. She wasn't quite ready to lose the security of his arms around her. Actually, she wasn't ready at _all_. She _was_ a bit puzzled, though. "Gunther - either this is the longest elevator ride in history, or we are not moving."

Gunther chuffed a quiet laugh. "I haven't pushed the button yet. I figured it was better to keep you contained in case you hulked out again."

She gave him a disapproving frown. "You're teasing me."

"Never," he said, his voice a bit rough around the edges and his eyes suddenly sparking with something that was _not_ humor - no, not at all. "After witnessing firsthand what you're capable of, I wouldn't dare."

He bent down - hesitated for the smallest of moments - probably weighing the pros of kissing her against the cons of getting punched in the throat - then brushed his lips lightly against her own. When she didn't move away, he cupped her jaw - his hand was startlingly hot against her skin - and kissed her again.

He'd had his mouth on her before, but she'd never actually tasted _him_ \- he tasted like whiskey and heat and promises and _sex._ It was potent, and _perfect,_ and made her head spin. His touch was light, tender - and completely at odds with what she wanted from him. She reached up - all impatience and sudden, _staggering_ need - and with more force than she'd intended, pulled him down to her, crushing his lips against her own.

He made a muffled sound and brought his other hand up to first caress her cheek, then stroke the hair at her temple, fingers toying restlessly with the tiny pearls there as he kissed her back, madly, furiously. Her head was spinning and they were kissing over and over, three times, four - breaking apart for air only to be drawn back together again, and _again_ , and it wasn't perfect, but then it _was_ -

She tangled her fingers into his hair, wanting, needing him closer. He groaned into her mouth - a deep, feral sound that sent shivers racing all over her body. And it wasn't enough, Jane realized with a sudden stark, _painful_ clarity. She would _never_ be able to get enough, and she only had him for this one night - but she would take what she could get; whatever he was willing to give her. Take it and be grateful. So she kissed him more deeply still, opening herself to him, reveling in the hard length of muscle against her.

Jane slipped one hand beneath his jacket, remembering how he'd pressed her palm over his heart in the alcove, wanting to feel that steady, strong rhythm again - but his heart was racing now, beating a harsh staccato in time with her own - and he shuddered at her touch. It made her feel powerful, yet desperate somehow too - she was a mess of conflicting emotions, passion and fear and excitement and need, and _sadness_ \- there was such sadness there because she liked this, God, she liked _him_ , but she also knew that it wasn't, it _couldn't_ be, reciprocal in any real or meaningful way.

This was his _job_ , she was merely a client - and probably one of the _most_ high-maintenance ones he'd ever had, at that. He was good at what he did - excellent, in point of fact - and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying it at the moment, but… he'd probably be equally relieved to see the back of her come morning. And her heart cracked just a little bit at the thought.

So she knew, she _knew_ , that she _shouldn't_ be doing this, but _oh dear God,_ she _wanted_ to.

And so she did. She let the worry of who and what they were fall away from her and simply lost herself in the moment. Lost herself in _him_.

A little while later, when he pulled back once more to catch his breath, Jane actually gave a small, breathy whine of protest - and he could have smirked at her wild impatience, could have laughed at the embarrassingly detrimental effect he had on her control, but he didn't. Instead he recaptured her lips with a passion that simultaneously stole her breath, and gave it back again.

She wrapped both her arms around his neck, surging upward against him, knocking him slightly off balance so that he actually staggered back a step, into the corner of the elevator; his own hands dropped away from her face, one arm snaking around her waist, the other hand dipping lower still, coming to rest on the swell of her buttocks, pulling her hips flush against his, almost grinding her into him. And then _any_ semblance of rational thought was utterly - _mercifully_ \- gone.

Banished far, far away.

When he pulled back yet again, this time to fumble with something in his pocket - a card which he used to make the elevator begin its climb - the steel color of his eyes had deepened to a dark, stormy gray. "Jane, I- " he tried between sharp, nearly _tortured_ little bursts of breath, "I want to t-"

She cut him off with a kiss of her own, then dragged her lips lower to nip at where his pulse thrummed in his neck.

"I want you too," she whispered hoarsely, before licking her way back up to the corner of his mouth, "...Gunther."

She really _liked_ his name, she realized, in a far-off, fogged up way; she'd never met anyone else with that particular moniker, she didn't think. It was strong and masculine and _definitely_ out of the ordinary - just like the man who bore it.

For his part, Gunther shivered at the sound of it, eyes falling shut, a crease almost of pain furrowing his brow, his hands clenching against her - his control, Jane intuited, almost entirely gone.

Then they were kissing again, kissing _frantically_ as the elevator rose, and there was no more talking.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: AND ON TO THE SMUTTING - Is that the heavy, citrusy scent of lemons in the air?_

 _To be clear: this chapter contains sex. S-E-X. SEX. A whoo-whoo-dilly gets inserted into a bajango. There's thrusting. Coitus. Intercourse. Copulation. Fornication. Coition. Relations. Sex._

 _Oh, don't give me that look. Where did you think this was going?_

* * *

They were so _thoroughly_ wrapped up in each other, they almost missed their floor.

The elevator chimed politely, slid open, and then nearly slid shut again before either of them came up for air long enough to notice. Gunther took a little lurching half-step to catch the doors - but was no more willing to release his hold on Jane's waist than she was willing to relinquish her grip on _him_ \- the result being that they _both_ staggered, and only narrowly avoided tumbling out onto the floor.

It was awkward, ungraceful, and they stumbled over the threshold in a tangle of lips and limbs. Jane stepped oddly - her experience with heels could be considered novice, at best - and accidentally bit his lip. Gunther drew a hissing breath between his teeth - whether in pain or pleasure she wasn't entirely sure. But he moaned - a deep, sensual sound - when she laved the spot with her tongue in earnest apology.

His hands were everywhere; her hair, her neck, her sides, dipping under the low cut of her dress in the back. He buried his face in the hollow of her throat to tease the skin there. It made her head swim and Jane suddenly felt unsteady; if he hadn't been holding her up, she surely would have melted into the floor.

She slipped off one shoe - but the strap of the other wouldn't budge. She bent a little, not wanting him to stop the magic he was working on her neck, her shoulder, - dear God, his _hands_ were - _oh -_ and almost sent them both - _again_ \- crashing to the floor.

Gunther caught her easily and lightly gripped her shoulders to hold her steady.

"You can take down a grown man..." he dropped a kiss on the skin of her exposed shoulder, "but you can't defeat a measly little shoe?" He chuckled at her sound of frustration. "Though I _am_ impressed with your footwork. Would you like some help?"

"I just," Jane did a little one-footed hop, "can't seem to - It's stuck and - _UGH -_ I think I broke my knuckle on his face, and I _can't get it -_ "

Gunther's hands - they had been working their way down her sides - abruptly stilled. He stepped back and gave her a confused look. "You broke your..." he trailed off, scowling. "Wait, you're _hurt?_ "

"I'll be fine." Jane gave a little unladylike grunt. The shoe remained firmly, frustratingly, in place.

"Not if you broke your hand." He dropped down to one knee to undo the strap for her. It resisted his attempts at first, and Jane was gratified to hear him curse softly under his breath.

It wasn't just her, then.

He did, however, succeed eventually. Shoe thusly removed and left forgotten on the floor, Gunther led her through the darkened room to what appeared to be a small wet bar area. He set her hand under the tap - she hadn't realized she'd been bleeding - and rummaged in a cabinet to produce a clean towel.

"I don't think it's too badly damaged," he said after examining it. The skin of the knuckles had split, and he was gently cleaning the wound as he spoke. "Maybe just bruised. You weren't kidding about knowing how to fight."

Jane gave a rueful little snort. "My sensei's going to kick my _ass_ for fighting."

"Isn't that the point of learning in the first place?" Gunther asked, his eyes still on his work, frowning slightly over her broken skin.

"The _point_ is to avoid physical confrontation, and if you absolutely cannot, to put your opponent effectively down."

"Well, I'd say you did that - his nose was _definitely_ broken, and I'd bet the color of his face matches the purple of his suit."

Gunther dabbed some antiseptic on her hand, eliciting a hiss of pain.

"Poor Bunny," she said through her teeth. "He'll take it out on her."

Gunther stopped what he was doing, eyes meeting hers, his face now etched even more deeply with concern. "Is that girl in danger, Jane?"

"No, Algern- he doesn't get… physical. Except-"

"Except he tried to hurt you downstairs."

"Yes. _Nothing_ like that's ever happened before. I don't…" She shook her head, still deeply unsettled by what had gone down. "He always preferred to cut with words."

"You mean _lies_ ," he said flatly. He wrapped her hand in gauze and kissed the bandaged top. "Well, she's safe enough for tonight; I can guarantee you that law enforcement is going to keep him well occupied. I'll check in on her in the morning." He reached out to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. Her careful arrangement was beginning to fall apart. "And Jane? Whatever horrible, cruel things he said to you, tonight or at any time in the past - they're _not true_. Not a single syllable. Just pathetic attempts to bolster himself by dragging you down. I hope - I _really_ hope - you know that."

A single, quick thought - stunning in both its clarity and its implications - meteored across her consciousness, there and then gone. _My God, I think I could fall in love with this man._

Hell, she was halfway there already.

She stared at him - struck dumb by her realization, and nearly _destroyed_ by its aching bittersweetness - then reached out to catch his face in both her hands. Her bruised knuckles were suddenly the farthest thing from her mind as she fused her lips once more to his, kissing him fiercely.

* * *

He let her. Let her press her lips to his, let her trace his mouth with her tongue, let her scrape his scalp and tug at his hair. He wasn't passive - no - he kissed her back with a fervor that was equal to her own, but he let her take the reins - let her touch and taste and take at her own pace - allowing Jane to direct this encounter on her own terms.

And dear lord it was good. No - _he_ was good. He pressed himself against her, _molded_ himself to her until their bodies were flush and she was backed against the low counter. Jane could feel the heat - the heat they were both generating - through the smooth cloth of his suit and the jagged lay of her scales.

She stopped for a moment, dizzy, needing to center herself, to catch her breath. The universe had shrunk again - and her lungs seemed to have shrunk with it.

What was he doing to her? What was she doing to _him?_

He understood - he must have, because he didn't say anything - just rested his forehead against her own and panted hot breaths into her hair, meeting her eyes with the same look of feverish, glazed desire.

He reached up to cup her jaw, maybe to tilt her head so he could kiss her again, and traced her lower lip with his thumb. It was rough, calloused, and before he could react she drew it into her mouth and rubbed at the pad with her tongue.

Gunther groaned, watching her mouth with the rapt attention of a half-lidded gaze.

She nipped his thumb and gave it a suck - pulling it deeper into her mouth - his response was immediate and _pronounced_ ; his hips bucked, grinding into hers in an instinctual, almost convulsive movement -

And then he was all over her, everywhere. He retrieved his hand to snarl it in her hair and pull her head to the side - exposing her neck to his mouth. His other hand traced patterns on her hip, her thigh, before dipping lower to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of the back of her leg. He tugged, intending to wrap her leg around his waist, but her dress was too tight. Jane had originally thought it offered her a pretty good range of movement, for eveningwear at any rate… but that had been when the only activities she'd anticipated engaging in were mingling and maybe - _maybe -_ a bit of dancing.

There was _no way_ it was going to allow her to hook a leg around him.

Gunther seemed to have come to the same realization, because he released her to drop down and place both hands on the outsides of her legs. His eyes locked onto hers as he dragged them up, up, skimming, caressing, _teasing_ the long expanse of her calves with his rough hands, ruching up the fabric of her dress as he went. When he reached the backs of her thighs, her gown now bunched around her hips, he made small circles with his thumbs, causing her to squirm against him and whimper deep in her throat… then, abruptly, he wrapped both arms tightly about her and, with only the smallest grunt of exertion, lifted her bodily and settled her on the edge of the counter.

A second later they were face to face again, Gunther kissing her temple, the little space between her eyes, the corner of her mouth, then moving to suck gently on the lobe of one ear, teasing the small diamond earring that nestled there with his tongue, eliciting a breathless, hitching moan.

She felt his lips curve in a smile and then he was kissing down, down, tracing the halter of her dress with his lips. His mouth was hot, so _hot,_ it felt like he was leaving marks - scorching, _branding_ her with the heat of his need.

Jane pushed his jacket off his shoulders, momentarily trapping his arms at his sides. Taking full advantage of his brief imprisonment, smiling now herself, she raked her nails down his chest. He growled in response, tried to capture her mouth with his own, but she pushed him back and hooked her fingers under his belt so she could yank him forward, between her thighs, and press her core against the hard length of his erection.

She locked her legs around him, caught the edges of his jacket with her crossed ankles; a little maneuver that trapped Gunther's arms most effectively. He struggled against his confinement, scowling at her decidedly smug little smirk, and made small, guttural sounds of frustration as she teased at his chest.

She worked at the buttons of his shirt, kissing the exposed skin as it was revealed a few inches at a time. The planes of his chest were hard, and as lean and muscular as the lines of his suit had suggested. She stopped the downward progression of her hands just above his belt, then pushed them upward again, this time _beneath_ the fabric of his shirt. He stilled and let loose a breathy curse, then shivered when she traced the fascinatingly distinct lines of his torso with her nails.

She let hand one trail up, _all_ the way back up, to wind its way around his neck and pull him down into a kiss that made the whole world spin, the countertop seeming to pitch beneath her.

Tearing his lips away several crazed seconds later, he croaked a single, broken " _Jane,"_ the rough edges of his voice catching at something deep inside of her. She dropped her hands to the counter on either side of her body, gripping the edge of it white-knuckled, still feeling as if it were trying, somehow, to buck her off. He was finally able to free himself from the confines of his jacket; he shucked it off and tossed it to the floor, forgotten. His shirt joined it a moment later, and then he unhooked her halter. He pulled the fabric down slowly, his eyes flashing once more to her own, another lightning-quick glance seeking confirmation that this was wanted, that this was… okay.

He saw all the answer he needed written in her flushed skin, parted lips and panting, erratic little breaths. The scales of her dress whispered as they scraped against themselves, and while she had been expecting it - had steeled herself for it - she cried out and arched into him when his mouth found her breast.

Jane gripped his shoulders - her nails left little moon-shaped indents on his skin - in a futile attempt to ground herself. She was falling, _falling_ and they'd barely even begun.

Gunther wound one strong arm around her, lending her support because Jesus, she was melting, she was… _puddling_ against him.

His other hand crept back up the delicate skin of her leg, ventured past her knee and under the bunched skirt of her dress. He drew fascinating patterns on the inside of her thigh, circular planets and whorling galaxies, and rested his palm on the sharp bone of her hip. His thumb teased the edge of her panties - over and over - it drove her mad and made her giddy - she realized, distantly, so distantly, that her hips had begun to rock in time to his ministrations - oh God, wanton, she was being… so… _wanton_ … and she found she didn't even care. She just needed… needed… for him to stop _taunting her,_ for _fuck's SAKE_ and… and...

She was wet, embarrassingly so, but he seemed so pleased at her _obvious_ reaction to his… attentions... that it was hard to feel sorry. And then finally - yes oh yes, _finally_ \- he pushed the small scrap of fabric aside and brushed delicately, teasingly over the sensitive skin of her sex. He'd barely even _started_ when Jane's climax overtook her - it was ridiculous, almost _mortifying_ , how fast she came - _and_ how hard.

She cried out, her whole body tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing as she rode it out, and he dragged his mouth back up to suck and nip at the base of her throat.

" _Holy fuck, I-"_ she panted a moment later, when she was once again _capable_ of something at least approaching coherent speech - only to have him cut off her words with a kiss that mirrored her own riotous, inarticulable emotions.

* * *

She was in a haze, so much so that Gunther had to repeat himself a couple of times before she even registered that he was speaking to her.

"-ane? _Jane_. Wrap your arms around me, kay?"

She obeyed unthinkingly; tightened her legs around him again too, once she realized his intent, and in the next instant he was lifting her, his hands snaking under her ass, gripping her there, pulling her up and settling her weight against him, and she locked her ankles at the small of his back and let her head fall to his shoulder as he carried her through the darkened space and into the bedroom.

Setting her carefully on the edge of the high, plush mattress, he quickly stripped off what remained of his clothing until he stood before her in nothing but his underwear. He smiled at her - a brief flash of white in the gloom that made her heart stutter a little bit in her chest - and then he was moving toward her, leaning over her, capturing her mouth again... one hand coming up to cushion the back of her head as he pressed her gently yet inexorably down onto the bed.

Jane, however, was in the process of coming back into herself, the delicious daze of her orgasm finally dissipating, to be replaced by a new sense of building anticipation. She stopped him, catching herself on her elbows and breaking the contact of their kiss. She was panting slightly, but her voice was clear and firm.

"No." she said, pushing him back and gesturing to his underwear. "Take those off."

He looked like he wanted to argue, to protest simply because, Jane sensed, being slightly contrary was a part of his core makeup, his fundamental… Guntherness. But, like before at the bar, her forwardness made his pupils darken, his expression go nearly slack. He may have found awkward, clumsy Jane endearing, sweet even - it was possible he actually _liked_ her on some level beyond that of a client - (Jane found herself desperately wanting to believe that, at any rate.)

But he really, _really_ liked bossy Jane.

A lot.

He gave her a smoldering look, then complied - although with deliberate slowness, Jane couldn't help but notice. Yes, there was definitely something in his nature that seemed to _very_ much enjoy… provoking her. He dragged his underwear down the long muscular lines of his legs, his eyes locked onto hers the whole time.

Her own eyes widened at what this action revealed.

 _Nice,_ she thought a bit stupidly, even her _internal_ voice relegated, apparently, to monosyllables in this moment. _Oh… nice._

He stretched out beside her, caught her lips with his own again, nibbling on the lower one for a second or two, then began to kiss his way down her body, lavishing attention on each of her breasts in turn. Before he could get any lower, though, Jane stopped him again.

It was difficult to do, but she had her own agenda now.

"Huh uh," she said hoarsely. "Lie back."

When he failed to obey immediately, she rolled up to her knees, pressed her hands flat to his chest, and _pushed_ him back, until he was the one prone on the bed. It was _her_ turn to grin down at him in the near darkness.

"Stay," she ordered, echoing back to him the single-word command he'd used on her downstairs, right after he'd intervened and just possibly prevented her from actually _killing_ Algernon.

She hadn't been terribly appreciative of his interference at the time, but given how the rest of her night would have gone if she _had_ murdered her ex, versus how it was going _now_ , she found herself deeply grateful in hindsight.

So she commenced dragging her mouth down the length of his body, kissing and nipping as she went, making him shudder and groan.

When she wrapped her fingers around him, noting distantly that she couldn't even close them all the way - _broadsword, indeed -_ he actually loosed a little whimper.

When she dropped a kiss on the tip, darting her tongue out to taste him, he bucked slightly beneath her, her name leaving his lips in an explosive exhalation. He almost sounded like he was in pain.

Almost.

And when she drew him into her mouth, he tangled one hand in her hair - not hard, not painfully, but with such grasping, desperate _need_ that she felt an answering flare low in the pit of her stomach; a raw tingle of warmth arcing downward - _God, again already?! -_ that made her squirm a bit against him as she gripped his base and stroked. Looking up the length of his body, she could see that his other hand was fisted in the bedclothes - a _lot_ less gently than the one in her now-thoroughly-mussed hair.

He appeared to be on the razor edge of losing himself entirely. It was intoxicating, how powerful that made her feel.

Jane smiled and set to work trying to divest him of any last tattered shreds of self-control he might still possess.

* * *

She nearly managed it; nearly, but not quite. He stopped her before she could push him over the brink, surging upward into a sitting position with a breathy little growl, catching her face in both his hands and kissing her almost ferociously. When they parted for air, his eyes were pressed shut, a deep furrow between them, his breath coming hard and fast.

"My turn," he ground out, and proceeded to all but _throw_ her backward onto the yielding surface of the bed. She found herself staring at the high, coved ceiling, struggling to control her own breathing as he ran his hands - they felt scorching hot to her in this moment - up the outsides of her legs; hooked her panties with his fingers, and tugged them down and off. He was a bit over-forceful; again, nothing to cause her any discomfort or harm, but she was sure she heard, and felt, the delicate fabric rip.

She decided she couldn't possibly have cared any less.

He leaned back on his knees for a second just staring at her, drinking her in with his eyes as she lay there in a decadent sprawl with her hair fanned out around her in a rumpled halo and her gown snagged about her middle - bunched up, bunched down, hiding nothing, and -

"Beautiful," he breathed, so softly she nearly missed it. " _Perfect_ , Jane."

He lowered himself almost reverently and kissed his way up the inside of her leg as her breaths piled up and up and _up_ in anticipation; grasping her hip with one hand to steady her, he slipped the other beneath her thigh and lifted, draping her leg over his shoulder.

She thought she felt him smile against her just as she'd done to _him…_ but it was hard to tell, _Jesus_ it was hard to… even _think_ because… because… she knew it was going to be -

 _So good OH DEAR GOD SO GOOD_.

His tongue found her and then she was practically sobbing, her hands winding in the bedspread, pulling, twisting at the fabric, head tossing helplessly from side to side as she panted his name because it was almost _too_ much, too intense, and she'd really wanted to try to hold on longer this time but -

 _Oh… oh… God… OH_

He slipped a hand between her thighs, pressed a finger into her, and it was over. She shattered around him, arching off the bed like a bow, a ragged cry ripped from her throat.

And it went on - and on - and oh fuck, oh - _on_.

When he crawled back up, she thought he'd be wearing that expression of his, that little self-satisfied _smirk -_ but there was only lust.

Jane lay there, desperate for breath, unable to control the tremors that still wracked her body. Gunther stretched out beside her and pressed delicate kisses along her collarbone as she came back to herself.

 _Jesus_ , that had been -

When she was able to breathe again, to form a coherent thought beyond _Holy FUCK, sh_ e righted herself and stood. He was naked but her dress was still caught about her middle. Her hands trembled as she worked the zipper - which, much to her frustration, was well and thoroughly stuck, having rolled over a bit of the tulle. She attempted to step out of the scaled dress, then to pull it over her head, but - lack of curves or no - she could not dislodge the damned thing without unzipping it further. At one point - (fuck Gunther and his fervent assurance that this was the sexiest, most _invigorating_ strip tease in the history of man, she wanted the dress _off_ ) - she even spun in a circle, trying to capture the offending pull tab. He laughed, low and husky, probably enjoying the payback from her earlier teasing.

She recalled wondering - at the very beginning of the evening - if _any_ part of this encounter would be free of awkwardness or embarrassment.

No. No it would not.

After a minute Gunther took pity on her and sat up. He grabbed a handful of her train and with all the confidence of a cat who has caught his prey, pulled her to him. He kissed her exposed breasts, tasted the dip of her cleavage, then turned her around and laved wet, open-mouthed kisses on her back. His hands found the zipper, but he had no better luck than she had; it was maddening.

If _she_ was frustrated, having already found her release _twice_ \- _he_ must be damn near out of his _mind._

Gunther made one more attempt to dislodge the zipper; then, without warning, gripped the sides of the dress and simply ripped it open in a shower of aquamarine scales.

He discarded the dress and turned Jane back around. She bent and pressed her mouth to his, then crawled into his lap. Once seated, she ground down - his erection was hot, so _hot_ , against the slick folds of her sex, that she almost exploded again right then and there. His latched onto her neck, her collarbone, leaving little marks with his teeth - his hands found her hips and coaxed her into a rhythm that had them both gasping for air.

" _Gunther,_ " she whined and traced the cup of his ear with her tongue, " _please-"_

In one smooth motion he flipped her over and deposited her on the bed. He moved away - she felt cold, bereft without the heat of his body against her own - but he returned a moment later, a condom in one hand. She took it from him, slipping it on before pulling him down to her.

He settled between her legs, his arms braced on either side of her, and brushed away a stray curl - it had stuck to her forehead with the sweat of their earlier exertions - with infinite, gentle care. He pressed himself against her entrance and she writhed beneath him, almost _frantic_ now. "Please," she repeated, "oh Gunther, please."

He thrust into her hard and slow, burying his face in the crook of her neck - he was shaking beneath her fingertips - and heaved in several deep breaths before moving.

She gasped and whimpered when he drew almost all the way out and then hilted himself inside her again - and then he was finding his rhythm, and she was rocking her hips up to meet him, running her hands restlessly up and down the sweat-slick sides of his body, feeling herself start to build again, back toward - toward - God, how many _times_ was she _going to_ -

Her body was tensing, every part of her tightening as she careened toward what she sensed would be the biggest explosion _yet_ , and Gunther groaned against her skin, then lifted his head, watching her face intently, _hungrily_ as they moved together. When she was right on the cusp he caught her hands, first one and then the other, pushing them down to the mattress on either side of her head and twining his fingers through hers. He dipped his head until his lips were brushing her ear and whispered, "Jane, I've got you."

And the whole world burst into fragments around her.

She was flying, she was falling, she was going to pieces and she was the most whole she'd ever been in her life. He crashed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, drinking in her cries, and she could feel that she'd pulled him over the edge right along with her, he was coming too, and - and -

When he released her mouth she buried her face in his shoulder, still climaxing _hard_ , and thought that she never, she _never_ , wanted this to end.


	7. Chapter 7

Jane woke to the feeling of something heavy and warm draping itself over her middle. The only light filtering through the curtains came from the night-bright city below, and she had no real means to gauge how long she'd been asleep. The weight, which her sluggish brain identified as a muscular arm, tightened around her and pulled her back until she was flush against him.

She was vaguely surprised he was still there - and wondered distantly if perhaps she should be the one to go - but he was tucked snugly around her so she let the slow pattern of his breathing lull her to sleep again.

It was sometime later when she came back to herself fully. The sheets still smelled of him, but his side of the bed was empty and cool. Jane stretched and looked for a clock of some sort, but there were none that she could readily see. The sun, however, was well into the sky. She stood up and arched her back; Dragon kept the muscles of her core and thighs fairly toned, but some of her… less _exercised_ muscles were a touch sore.

Although not unpleasantly so.

A quick investigation of the bedroom and living space (and shit, this place was _big!_ Was she expected to pay for this suite as well?! It had to cost a _fortune!)_ revealed she truly _was_ alone - a condition she had _every_ intention of taking advantage of.

If she was going to make the dreaded walk of shame - (though she was in _no_ way sorry for the previous night's activities) - or _worse,_ engage in some awkward morning-after conversation - she was at least going to do so clean.

She returned to the bedroom, found the shower - which was roughly the size of her entire master bathroom - turned on the water as hot as she could stand it, and let it wash away any residual stiffness.

After a long, _long_ time - she might have actually fallen asleep under the spray at one point - she padded out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. Picking out the little pearls with her fingers had been a chore, but it felt good to be back to her plain, unadorned self.

 _Just Jane._ Her lips quirked at the thought.

She cast about for her dress - but it wasn't until she saw the explosion of scattered scales that she remembered it had been _most_ thoroughly destroyed - and then felt the unmistakable flush of arousal as she remembered _how._

A fittingly epic ending for an undeniably epic gown.

She toed at the puddle of still-shimmering fabric on the floor. The man had cost her God only _knew_ how much money - _and_ had wrecked the single most expensive garment she owned into the bargain.

Unapologetically. _Glibly._

And she found that she really couldn't bring herself to be sorry.

However - she had to wear _something._ And since he'd rendered her own attire _completely_ unviable, thank you ever so much, the least he could do was… share.

She crossed to the dresser and pulled it open, then laughed to find that not one drawer, not two, but the _entire thing_ was filled with geeky tee-shirts. Each was emblazoned with the colorful design of one fandom or another - except for those that had been washed so often they were faded and threadbare. She took her time choosing and eventually settled on a well-worn Stranger Things t-shirt; the demogorgon talons were spread in invitation, apparently offering "free hugs" to unwitting victims.

Jane wondered if when Gunther wore this shirt, women overcame the picture to wrap their arms around him.

The idea made her just the slightest bit jealous.

Her underwear were, as she had expected, a complete loss, so she scrounged around until she found a pair of his boxer briefs. She doubted he'd be much offended by her thievery. And if he was, well, too bad.

Clothed, in at least a rudimentary fashion, Jane wandered out into the living area to find her clutch. She dug out her phone to see if she had missed any calls when - _Dear Lord - how many times had Pepper called?_

 _Or texted?_

 _Or em-_

Jane wondered if perhaps Pepper needed an escort of her own, to help relieve some of her apparently _boundless_ energy.

Without bothering to peruse the myriad texts - it was _far_ too early for any real reading comprehension - she found Pepper's number and hit send.

Pepper picked up on the first ring.

"Good morning, Pepper. You called -" Jane turned her phone and squinted at the notifications, "- a lot?"

"Um… yes, uh," there was an unusual tinge of uncertainty in Pepper's voice. "I just wanted to see how your evening ...went. It must be almost lunchtime there - was everything alright?"

"Yeah." Jane yawned, and looked longingly back at the bed. She could easily go for another hour or two of sleep. No, no. Jane needed water; maybe some sort of sustenance. _Then_ she could think about crawling back into bed. When was checkout time? "It didn't start off so well - I had a really hard time just walking _into_ the hotel, but after a few false starts it was rather ...pleasurable."

"Oh?" Pepper sounded oddly reticent - cagey even - like she was fishing for information. She was probably _dying_ to know how Jane's date had been. "It went okay, then?"

"Yeah, you could say that. I mean, it was _terribly_ awkward at first, but the escort you got me was well worth whatever fortune he cost. Jesus _Christ_ I've never seen such a beautiful man."

"Wait - what?" Pepper sounded confused. Shocked, even. The thought that Jane might actually _sleep_ with the man had probably never crossed her mind.

"Oh like you can judge me - it _was_ your idea, after all. I am going to be sore for a _week_ and I don't even care." Jane wandered over to where her gown still lay in lay in a ruined puddle. "But I _am_ going to need another dress."

"I - you - what?" Pepper took a deep breath. "Explain."

"My dragonscale dress. It has been well and thoroughly slain. There are little scales everywhere."

"Petal, you- you slept with an escort?"

Jane snorted. "I wouldn't say there was much _sleeping_ \- I think I came more times last night than in the _entire_ time I dated Algernon."

"I don't understand - did you call the escort service?"

Jane was tired - possibly a touch hungover - and she had a hard time following Pepper's odd line of questioning. "No dear, you did, remember?"

"I didn't, though."

"Of course you did."

"But, Petal - you seemed so uncertain - so _desperately_ uncomfortable with the idea, I never made the reservation."

"Very funny, Pepper."

"I'm being dead serious, Jane. I figured you'd get in there, mingle a bit, think the escort stood you up, and be relieved enough not to care either way. Then when Algae made his bullshit grand entrance, you'd either bail or stick around. I was betting on stick around - you can be as stubborn as a mule when you want to be - But I _never_ made the reservation."

"But I did meet him, Pepper. I- he- at the bar, with a rose."

"Jane, believe me - I would _not_ lie to you about this. I _never_ made the call. _NEVER._ I've been trying to reach you all morning, to _apologize._ "

Now it was Jane who was thoroughly confused.

If Pepper wasn't teasing her - a questionable premise at best - then _who_ -?

Jane studied her surroundings. The style of the room was still art deco, but softened, and there were personal touches here and there. One wall sported a collection of what appeared to be antique swords. Another held a shelf decorated with tiny little figurines. "But… but… then who the hell did I -? Pepper, are you _sure_ you aren't messing with me? I walked up to him and took his rose."

Gasping, gagging sounds came from Jane's phone - for a second Jane was ready to hang up and call Pepper's hotel for a medic - suddenly worried that her friend was choking to death an ocean away, and she was helpless to prevent it - and then she realized Pepper was _laughing_ at her. Laughing _hard_. So hard she wasn't able to get in a full breath, had probably moved the phone away from her ear.

Jane knew from experience that it would take Pepper some time to get herself back under control. As she waited, she continued to stare about herself in complete stupefaction. What had she done, what had she done, what had she done, what had she _done_ -

"Jane," Pepper managed at length, "are you telling me you picked up some random man, - no - the MOST attractive man _at_ the party - _told_ him he was your prostitute, and then proceeded -" she was practically wheezing - "to make _very_ good use of him?"

"I- " Jane looked around, her eyes wide as saucers. "I think I did."

Her flat, horrified pronouncement sparked yet another round of incredulous laughter from an ocean away. "I knew... you had... it in you," Pepper gasped, sounding almost in pain. "Oh, Jane… oh, honey… you... _deflowered_ him!"

" _Hardly_ … wait. Oh." Pepper and her goddamn _puns_. Jane couldn't keep up with this shit right now.

"Thank you, Pepper," she said in her dryest tone, "That is _so_ helpful."

"I can't - oh, my - Okay," Pepper took a deep breath before she continued on, calmer, but no less amused. "Where are you now, Jane? Are you safe?"

"Yes. I -" Jane walked over to the wide windows and studied the view. The buildings were all familiar, and she didn't _remember_ leaving the hotel. They'd gone through the kitchen and straight up the service elevator. Hadn't they? "I'm still in the hotel." She looked again; she seemed _terribly_ high up. "I think I'm in the penthouse."

"The Kippernium doesn't _have_ a penthouse."

"Sure it does. I can see in all four directions. Well three - but four if you count the bedroom."

Pepper made a few more strangled sounds. "I am telling you, it does _not._ The top floors are private residences, Jane."

Her eyes were drawn back to the collection of swords. He _had_ mentioned a love of antique weaponry, hadn't he? The little figurines - no - _game_ pieces. For Dungeons and Dragons. And - holy _shit -_ the _entire_ dresser of adorably nerdy tee-shirts. If this were a hotel room, would he have brought so many casual clothes for a _professional_ encounter? Unlikely.

There was a long drawn out silence as the pieces clicked into place and she tried to grasp the gravity of her situation. Jane stared down at the shirt she'd chosen - the demogorgon mocked her with its sly, toothy smile. "Pepper, what have I _done?_ "

"Dearest, I think the real question is _who._ "

Suddenly and completely overwhelmed, Jane squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out her surroundings, the suite that wasn't a suite, that was actually - God oh _God_ \- someone's _home_.

Massaging her temple with the fingers of her free hand, she swallowed hard. Her throat clicked dryly.

Water - she needed water.

She'd started to drift toward the little wet bar where he'd tended to her hand last night, when Pepper's steadily rising voice broke through her muddled thoughts.

"-AME?!"

"What? Sorry... I was thinking." Jane pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it in the sink. "Is it possible for someone to fuck you stupid?"

"Yes, absolutely it is - and I'm getting more jealous by the second. What I asked was - dear Lord I am never going to recover from this - _What was his name?_ " Pepper nearly screeched the last bit.

"It was..." Jane took a drink and set her cup down to pinch the bridge of her nose in concentration. She was distracted by a flare of pain from her hand. Confused - boy she really _was_ out of it - she frowned down at her scabbed, bruised knuckles. "I can't remember."

"You didn't even get his _name?!_ " There was a beat of shocked silence before Pepper continued seriously, "I have never been so proud of you as I am in this moment."

Jane raked her free hand through her hair. "Yeah, well you should have seen me punch Algernon in the face."

"YOU _WHAT?!_ "

Jane groaned. "Why are you yelling?"

"You _punched - oh sweet skipping Christ the press -_ fuck - fuck - _FUCK -_ all right, we'll come back to that. His name, Jane. Did you get it or not?"

"Of _course_ I got his name. It was..." she took a deep breath, attempting to clear the cobwebs. "Guuh - Gunther something."

There was a long drawn out noise on the the other end of the line - somewhere between a gasp and a squeal, the sound reverberating painfully through her skull.

"Gunther Br-" but Pepper was interrupted when the elevator doors made their polite _ding!_ and slid open.

"Um - Pepper, someone just came into the room - I gotta call you back."

"NO, JANE! Don't hang up! I have to tell yo-"

But Jane had already ended the call.


	8. Chapter 8

She didn't _hide_ , exactly.

It wasn't as if she ran into the bedroom, buried herself under the covers, and feigned sleep. No, to do so would have been cowardly, and all need for moral support aside, Jane was determined to face this little _incident_ with as much grace and courage as she could muster.

She _did_ however, take a step back so she wasn't immediately visible from the front entrance, if only to steal herself a moment of uninterrupted observation.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal Gunther balancing a drink carrier of what smelled like coffee, a box she fervently hoped included some sort of foodstuffs, and a large, colorfully printed paper bag.

He didn't notice her watching him, and went about setting everything on the expansive marble countertop that separated the kitchen from the living space. From the bag he withdrew a package of gauze and sports wrap, a blouse, a pair of ballet flats, and a pair of jeans which - even from here - Jane could see probably cost more than all her other pairs combined.

Gunther himself was dressed casually, black jeans, a tee-shirt, and tennis shoes, and for a minute Jane wasn't even entirely sure it was him. It was _such_ a stark contrast from his suit the night before that she had difficulty reconciling the two - and she was suddenly overcome with a fresh wave of embarrassment for having _assumed_ he was her - _anyone's_ \- escort.

She thought, detachedly, that these waves were likely to continue sneaking up on her for quite some time to come.

Somehow though, his outfit didn't seem at odds with the opulence of the room; Gunther appeared more approachable this way, less intimidating. He looked completely at home here, and it struck her again - _of course_ he was at home, this WAS his home.

Fuck.

 _FUCK_!

What had she _done?_

Jane must have made some sort of noise - a small sound of embarrassed, horrified distress - because he turned around.

"Oh, you've already showered." He sounded disappointed. "I was hoping to make it back in time to join you." He gestured to the clothes sitting on the counter. "I'm afraid your dress was a total loss, but I won't apologize for ruining it." He gave her a heated look.

Jane shivered in response, which made him smirk. Wasn't he just the smuggiest of smug jerks?

"No, not sorry at all," he continued. "Though when I got out of bed I had one of your scales stuck to my ass."

Jane blinked. _There_ was an image to file away for future use.

"You're not my escort," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Nope. And you're the dumbfuck who sent Pepper overseas."

Ah, yes. Neither of them had been particularly truthful, had they?

"How did you find out?" She tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt, feeling suddenly, terribly exposed - which was silly. _Ridiculous_ even. He'd certainly seen all of her last night. _And_ this morning. Twice.

"Google."

"Oh," she said, feeling a bit stupid. Technology _was_ her field after all. She was _hardly_ a silent owner of DraCo. Jane _wanted_ to blame it on the late night but -

She was embarrassed, and wondered if she should be mad. He _had_ lied to her, hadn't he?

 _Hadn't_ he?

She tried to remember… had he ever actually _said_ he was her escort? Or had he, as Pepper had implied, simply allowed her to believe what she _herself_ had decided was true?

Nor was it as if _she_ had been exactly forthcoming with him - of course she'd had a valid reason for her initial reticence, thinking him a hooker and all… but then, hadn't he had a valid reason too? He must have thought her certifiably _insane_.

She was feeling, at the moment, that he probably would have been correct.

"Who _are_ you then?" she asked, as her phone started to vibrate in her hand. She glanced down, distracted; Pepper calling. She sent it straight to voicemail.

"Gunther Breech," he said. "This is my hotel - among others. And you are Jane Turnkey, the brilliant - if somewhat reclusive - owner of DraCo."

Jane plopped, rather ungracefully, down onto his couch, drew up her legs, and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Your hotel."

"It is."

"Which means it is _your_ charity."

"My mother's, actually."

"Christ." She pulled the shirt over her knees and tucked her face into the neck. "I came into your _house_ , to your _mother's_ charity event, declared you were my _prostitute_ , got into a fucking _fist fight_ with my ex, and then humped you like a sex-starved bunny."

"I am not sure I agree with _all_ of that, but you certainly came."

Jane groaned, and tried to make herself smaller.

"What are you _doing_ in there?"

"Waiting for the ground to swallow me whole."

"As we are on the top floors, that seems unlikely to occur any time soon." He sat down beside her and tugged at the collar of the shirt. "Please come out."

"I will not."

"You can't stay in there forever." He pulled her hair to the side, exposing her neck.

"I can and I will. The demogorgon protects me."

"It offers free hugs." He traced the freckles on the back of her neck.

"It's a lie."

"I'll come in there after you." Gunther ran a finger down the length of her spine.

"There is no room."

"There is always room in the upsidedown." His hand crept under the shirt and settled on the small of her back.

"FINE." She popped out with a huff of frustration. _In for a penny in for a pound - or whatever - bullshit. It was all bullshit._

"Wh-, why di -" she stuttered, too embarrassed to go on. She held her hand out in a gesture of wordless supplication.

Gunther caught it in his own and turned it over, his teasing forgotten. "Why did I pretend I was your escort?" He scowled at the scabs that had formed on her knuckles.

"Yes." Shit on toast, she was a plethora of witticisms this morning. Perhaps he really _had_ fucked her stupid.

"Well -" he probed the bruised skin, and apparently satisfied the injury was no worse than the night before, set her hand in his lap before covering it with his own. "Once I got past my initial surprise, I found I was rather intrigued by the idea of _the_ most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my _LIFE_ needing to pay for her date. I figured you were either an actress or a spy or crazy - probably crazy - any of which would have been a welcome distraction from the evening. But then you turned out to be none of the above - and, well - I didn't see any good reason for disabusing you of the notion."

Jane whined a little - her embarrassment was threatening to make her hide again.

"If I'd told you the truth at the party, you probably would have been humiliated and bolted -"

"There's no _probably_ in that statement," she said, studying the frayed hem of her purloined shirt with fixed attention.

"And that's the _last_ thing I wanted, Jane. The last thing in the world. Though if I WERE an escort," he continued, "you'd have gotten a freebie for punching that dillhole in the face - because until we made it up here, I had never seen anything quite so sexy."

Jane wouldn't have believed it possible for her to flush any more deeply… but she would have been mistaken. She could feel her face positively _radiating_ heat at his words as a confusing mix of emotions churned within her, vying for dominance. She was still mortified, but also a little bit flattered, and _definitely_ in agreement about never having seen anything remotely so sexy in her _entire life_ before they'd stumbled out of the elevator and into his -

 _Home_ , she thought, still a bit stupidly. _His home._

 _And_ she was continuing to have a hard time - a _very_ hard time - making all the pieces fit.

"But what… what about…" she paused, took a breath, tried to collect herself. "Gunther, the _rose!?_ "

"I'd pulled it out of one of the arrangements - half wilted before the party was even underway! - and was contemplating whether to fire the florist then, or wait until morning. Now, though… I think he'll actually be getting a bonus."

"Kathryn and Lillian?"

"Lillian is my aunt, Kathryn is her partner."

Jane gave him a long look before narrowing her eyes in disbelief. It was too convenient, too easy by _half._

"Why don't you call them 'aunt' then?"

"Even if I _had_ been willing to risk revealing that I was not, in fact, your escort - does Kathryn seem like someone who would appreciate being reminded that she is old enough to be my _mother?_ "

 _Not even a little bit._

"No, she does not," she conceded. Jane took a deep breath. "And running through the hotel naked?"

"I was four. I peed in the elevator. It's their favorite go-to 'embarrass Gunther' story."

"No wonder you didn't want her to elaborate - that certainly would have changed the tone of the story. _Especially_ if she neglected to mention your age."

Jane's phone vibrated again.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"No." She shook her head. "It's Pepper."

"You should answer it - she's probably worried if she's calling over and over."

"Oh, she's not worried. She's _gloating._ I spoke to her this morning and -" Jane found herself unable to continue.

Gunther waited expectantly for her to finish.

" - she never made the," Jane cleared her throat, " _reservation._ "

"Then you should _definitely_ answer it -" he tugged at an errant curl - "and thank her."

"No," she huffed, "I think I should let her stew… forever."

"That hardly seems nice - here, _I'll_ just say thank you then - I find myself intrigued by this _Pepper._ " He snatched up her phone from where it lay between them on the couch.

"No, you can't -" Jane pounced on him, "she'll never let me hear the end of it - Fuck! The teasing will be _merciless!_ " And then they were wrestling, body to body, first him on top then Jane with the advantage. "God _damn_ it!" Jane had almost pinned him underneath her - she had straddled his hips and was reaching desperately, giggling and fighting as though her very life depended on it, for her _phone._ "I'm not above breaking a few of your ribs!"

Gunther wrapped his large hands around her waist and she suddenly found herself on her back, crushed beneath his mass, his weight settled - not at all unpleasantly - between her legs.

He smirked and ground his hips down, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Her phone buzzed again. Pepper _was_ being unusually persistent.

He handed it over, "Answer it. Make nice with your friend." He ground against her _again_ , slower this time.

 _Dirty tricks_.

Jane tapped the screen. "Pepper, he-"

"OH THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED, GUNTHER BREECH OWNS THE KIPPERNIUM AND A HUNDRED OTH-"

Gunther chuckled at Pepper's announcement - her words were clearly audible from the short distance.

"I know, Pepper."

Gunther pulled down the collar of the too-large shirt, and kissed the skin there, teasing it with his tongue.

"And the charity - It's his family's - He probably put the whole thing on himself -"

He moved down and pulled the shirt up, exposing her breasts, licking and nipping his way along their undersides as Pepper ranted. She could feel him smiling against her skin.

Jane bit her lip, suppressing a moan. "I know, Pepper."

"You marched up to one of the eligible bachelors _in the COUNTRY_ and told him he was your prostitute."

"I _am_ unfortunately aware, Pepper. Though I'd like to think I glid. Glidded?" Dammit it was hard to think straight when Gunther was -

"G _lided,_ " she amended, then gasped as he kissed his way down, tugging on the band of the boxers. "But I don't think he minds."

Pepper was silent for a moment - Jane could hear her friend's mind whirling in spite of her own _severely_ divided attention. Then -

"Are you?" Pepper stuttered. "Is _he-?_ Sweet _Jesus_ I need to get laid - but then _why_ did you answer the phone?"

Gunther reached up and plucked the little device from her hand. This time, Jane didn't bother to protest.

"Because I wanted to say thank you, Pepper. For first suggesting, then neglecting to follow through with the call to the escort company. I'd say - though you'd have to take it up with your boss - you deserve a raise." He kissed the sensitive skin of Jane's stomach. "Though I do wonder how many men - perfectly innocent men, mind you - bearing flowers I had security throw out."

Jane could hear Pepper's bright peals of shocked laughter ringing through the phone from half a world away.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Gunther continued with exquisite politeness, "I have other very _pressing_ matters which require my _immediate_ attention."

He ended the call, dropped the phone on the floor, and did just that.

* * *

They'd enjoyed each other quite thoroughly - then showered - then gotten distracted, then showered _again_.

Then gotten distracted. Again.

After that, Jane had finally, though not without a certain reluctance, cried " _enough!"_ in deference to her shaking legs and empty stomach.

She'd dressed in the clothes he'd brought her - the blouse was covered in roses, of all the impudent, arrogant, assumptive purchases - and they had gone out to eat. They'd also made a short stop at the police station to file a report. Algernon had in fact been remanded to police custody, and enjoyed their _hospitality_ for the night.

All in all it was a pleasant, genial affair, and held very little of the awkwardness Jane might have expected from their _unconventional_ introduction.

That's not to say Gunther was perfect - but how utterly boring would he have been if he was? Outside the thick walls of The Kippernium and without the formal attire of his suit to act as a sort of armor, he was far less assured; slightly awkward, even.

In contrast, Jane found it _much_ easier to be herself without the trappings of high society - and while she appreciated the thoughtfulness of his purchases, she secretly wanted the too-large comfort of her stolen tee-shirt.

They made quite the pair, and spent their time out absorbed in genial conversation and pleasantly argumentative banter.

They returned to his suite; Gunther said he had no intention of letting her escape until - at the very least - he could have her dress repaired. It was a patently flimsy excuse; he could easily have it delivered, but Jane felt no inclination to argue. She found herself thoroughly enchanted by this not-escort and was delighted to discover he had many of the same quirky interests she did - though he had almost _no_ interest in technology past his gaming console and found most new gadgets intimidating - preferring instead, his books on medieval history.

No, Jane was in no hurry to leave - though she found the warmth from their friendly, affectionate bickering made her just the smallest bit, well, _nervous_. It was overwhelming - almost a tad frightening, in fact - just how utterly compatible they _were_ , and how quickly it had happened. They weren't perfect… quite… yet. But they could be. She felt that truth reverberating right down to her bones. They _could_ be. She'd never felt this with another man, and would have scoffed at anyone who'd told her that such a connection could be practically instantaneous. And yet…

There it was.

Upon their return, Gunther gave her a tour of his apartment, though Jane thought a _more_ accurate description might be a mansion in the sky, and this impression was fully confirmed when he led her up a set of stairs she had missed in her previous exploration.

"You have a second _story?_ Isn't that a bit ...much?"

"Intimidated?"

"Very."

"Oh how the tables have turned," he said, giving her a slightly smug look… but then he shook his head. "Don't be - I only have part of it - the rest is partitioned into guest suites for my family's use when they visit. Which is often."

He led her into a wide open space. One whole wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room with natural light. The floors were hardwood, polished to a high sheen, cut lengthwise by two long strips of padding.

Jane gasped in unmitigated delight. "You have your own _fencing_ room?"

"Yes, but it also doubles as a ballroom when we need a smaller venue, for private family parties."

"You never said you fenced. Why didn't you mention it when you I told you _I_ did?"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't believe me - you had already accused me of pandering - and besides, I was hoping I'd be able to show you in person."

Gunther walked over to the far wall and grabbed two foils off the rack. "Up for a spar?"

"I don't know… someone's really tired out my..." Jane ran her hands over her hips and rear, "...everything."

Gunther smirked and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips before leaning to whisper teasingly in her ear. "It _sounds_ as if you are afraid of losing."

"Hardly - but I don't have any gear."

"In the locker on the right."

"You just _happen_ to have a set of women's gear on hand?" Jane smiled as she pulled out what she needed. "I see your game - you might not be an escort, but you _are_ a scoundrel. You lure women into your lair - into the deep, dark depths of your _dork_ hole - with the promise of showing them your sword."

Gunther colored, the tips of his reddened ears peeking out of his ever so slightly too-long hair. "Only you - though I _suppose_ the idea has merit." He gave one of the foils he was holding a few experimental swipes, as we waited for her to take the other one from him. "I s _trongly_ suspect such a tactic would only work on the most select, most astoundingly _discerning_ group of women. I'd have to be spectacularly lucky to even run into such a rare and beautiful creature - I imagine they're less common than dragons - and _then_ I'd have to be smart enough to capitalize on the opportunity."

Jane hummed appreciatively. Flattery was going to get him _everywhere…_

Except to an easy victory on the fencing floor. There was principle at stake, after all.

Gunther pulled on his own gear over his head. "Actually, it belongs to my cousin Lavinia - you'd like her I think - we never miss an opportunity for a match when she's in town." He watched Jane shimmy into the padding with a slightly lascivious grin. "She's a bit of an adrenaline junkie - but she has to be more careful now."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. She married into royalty. She's a princess, you know."

Jane shook her head in disbelief. "Holy fuck, what have I gotten myself into?" She pulled down her face mask and settled into a defensive stance.

"Funny - I spent most of last evening asking the same thing."

"Har - you'll need better offense than that if you want to win. En garde!"


	9. Chapter 9

The reception, like the ceremony before it, was a reflection of the couple being joined. Simple, beautiful, honest, and without pretense. Well, the woman at least. Jester was still a bit over the top, but thankfully he'd been taken firmly in hand by his now-wife; and the party was without jugglers, a mariachi band, a boy's choir, or any sort of petting zoo.

At least, thus far.

Though Pepper would have _really_ enjoyed a mariachi band.

Pepper leaned back to watch the happy couple. Bunny was whispering something in Jester's ear and his face (thankfully free of that _horrendous_ beard) was a bright, tomato red. He had a glazed look about him - yup, Pepper was thankful for her distance from the head table - no doubt Bunny had him _firmly_ in hand.

Theirs was a sweet love story: after learning Bunny was a _brilliant_ event planner, Gunther's aunts had all but adopted her. A few months later she'd met Jester through Jane, and - Pepper bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from giggling, but who would chide her for smiling at a wedding? - he'd won her over with an inspired rendition of The Eight Nights of Bunnukkah.

It seemed silly, and maybe it was, but their connection was so real, so _tangible_ , Pepper couldn't help but feel the slightest bit jealous.

They were adorable, really. They were so completely entranced with one another that the entirety of the party could have stood up and _left_ and they wouldn't even have noticed.

Some of them had, actually, much to Pepper's annoyance. She had been without a date and - after some teasing suggestions she hire an escort - had come alone. She had _hoped_ to spend the evening chatting with her best friend - work had been rather busy of late and their paths didn't cross nearly enough - but they'd been there less than an hour before Jane had pulled a rose from the centerpiece and presented it to Gunther with a smirk.

It was cute, _they_ were cute - even if that adorableness bordered on disgusting at times - but Pepper was in _no_ mood to deal with the press. They had _better_ not get caught doing… whatever it was they were doing.

Social media was _such_ a pain in her ass.

Thank God at least the reception was at the Kippernium, and so one would _assume_ that they'd make it up to the top-floor suite before completely throwing inhibition to the wind… but then again, this _was_ Jane and Gunther.

 _Oh God,_ please _don't do anything stupid, you two._

Like a couple of high school kids they were, sometimes. _Especially_ when formalwear was involved. And roses. Fucking _roses_.

Resolved to stick around for at least another half hour, although without any real hope that her friend would return, Pepper took a sip of her drink and let her eyes wander. Bunny had transformed the hotel's garden into an ethereal vision of twinkling fairy lights, gorgeous flowing swags of white fabric, flower garlands and quaint candle chandeliers.

It was a veritable lover's paradise.

Too bad Pepper was without a lover.

After the prerequisite half hour, during which Jane and Gunther remained conspicuously absent - _jerks_ \- Pepper reached for her purse. She pushed away from the table, stood up, and had just started to turn when when, _smack!_ She hit an unyielding wall.

The impact sent her sprawling - face first and ass in the air - onto the grass, and she let loose a strikingly unladylike string of curses.

She'd just started to push herself back up when a large pair of hands - accompanied by a deep, rumbling apology - caught her under her arms and hauled her bodily to her feet. Once righted, Pepper brushed off the front of her dress and turned around. She didn't look up right away - she wanted to be _quite_ sure her decolletage had not escaped the dubious confines of her top.

"- all right?" The wall was asking. "Miss? Are you hurt?"

Pepper mumbled a response - she was not hurt, but she _was_ a bit miffed. Satisfied her breasts hadn't made a break for it, and there weren't any bits of grass still clinging to her front, Pepper looked up into the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen.

All her mind supplied was an inelegant _Holy SHIT._ Pepper was just grateful she hadn't said it out loud.

Except, based on the amusement twinkling in his eyes, maybe she had.

"I apologise - please forgive me - I was reading the names on the table, trying to find my cousin, and I was not watching where I was going."

"Um… it's okay, I don't seem any worse for wear - though you could say my pride has taken a nosedive."

"Are you sure you are not injured?"

"Thank you, but I'm fine. Really. Um. Fine." Pepper could feel herself blushing.

He smiled down at her and Pepper, breath catching slightly in her throat, found that her desire to go home had vanished quite completely.

"Who's your cousin?" She asked, making a concerted effort to rally. She suddenly wanted _very_ much to keep this conversation going. "Maybe I can help you find her?"

"Him," he corrected. "We're not related by blood. His cousin Lavinia is my sister-in-law. Perhaps you know him? Gunther Breech."

Inwardly, Pepper did a little dance. She knew plenty of the other guests, but how lucky was this?

"I do, actually - and this _is_ his table - but he and his wife have stepped out for a bit. They should be back shortly," she lied smoothly - there was almost _no_ chance the couple would be returning. "You are welcome to wait here if you like."

"You don't mind?"

Hell no, she didn't mind.

"Not at all - I'd appreciate the company. Though I may ask you to dance at some point - recompense for knocking me bodily into the grass."

He laughed and pulled out her chair, tucking it neatly behind her as she sat. "Of course - and you are?"

"Verbena Salter. But you can call me Pepper."

"Noah Brighton Ried the third."

"You mean there are _more_ of you out there?" Dear fucking God, what was _wrong_ with her?

But he just flashed her that jaw-dropping smile again, appearing genuinely delighted by her _terminally_ awkward attempts at flirting. "Fortunately no," he said, raising her hand and brushing the back of it gently with his lips. "Just me."

"Well, Just Noah... tell me about yourself."

* * *

 _A/N: And you there you have it folks! There is a companion story for The Sellsword, written by Kyra4, for the Janther Week prompt "Saudade". Keep an eye out for it!_


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